


The Other One

by ConsultingOtter (FourCornersHolmes), FourCornersHolmes



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alpha Irene Adler, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Irene Adler, Discussion of Abortion, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, F/F, F/M, False Pregnancy, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Jim Moriarty is Alive, John Watson is a Good Doctor, John Watson is a Saint, M/M, Multi, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Mycroft is a Bit Not Good, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 04, Q is a Holmes, Rosalene is my new rarepair ship, Rosalie/Irene, Sherlock Holmes is Bad at Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2020-11-28 04:10:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 17
Words: 73,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20960261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FourCornersHolmes/pseuds/ConsultingOtter, https://archiveofourown.org/users/FourCornersHolmes/pseuds/FourCornersHolmes
Summary: What if Eurus Holmes wasn't the only daughter? What if there was another sibling, another sister? What if she grew up separated from her family, never knowing who she was or where she had come from until some terrible incident brought the awful truth to light? Meet Rosalie Grayson, 17-year-old genius and youngest of the Holmes siblings.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Kinktober, specifically for our Discord "Harmony" server! My first (and to date ONLY) pub'd ABO piece, please be gentle.  
**  
New tags have been added! Pay attention, class!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have renamed Justice to Jäger. You'll see why in Chapter 10.

* * *

* * *

Rosalie Grayson didn’t need any of the doctors to tell her what she already knew. In one fell swoop, one split-second of inattention, and she was the only surviving member of her family left. Oh, there were plenty of surviving Graysons, but Rosalie didn’t want a thing to do with _any _of them. She didn’t have a choice, she was barely sixteen, not even close to the age of majority. Not in the United States, where she had lived with her parents, or in Great Britain, where the rest of her family lived. She was in hospital for three weeks, at which time she was discharged to piece her life back together as best she could.

After seeing to the funeral arrangements for her parents, Rosalie accepted a comfortable inheritance, which she quickly put into a safe bank-account she was_ fairly _certain her extended family couldn’t access. Then she packed up the few things she needed, mostly clothes and books and her laptop, and settled in for a game of hurry-up-and-wait with the courts. Apparently, someone in the extended family had dug up ancient adoption records. They were dead-set on proving that, Rosalie was, in fact, no relation of theirs. And since she was not a Grayson by birth, why should they be responsible for her? The case had gone to the family courts and she was waiting for someone to decide the rest of her life.

Finally, the custody judge sent her into the system, wished her luck, and that was it. She had been hoping for emancipation, but that was asking too much, it seemed. While she wasn’t _nearly _old enough to “age out” of the system, she hated the idea of going into the foster system. It was highly unlikely she would ever find a suitable family or be placed with a good family. She went to a group home for older fosters, one of three in the home itself, and waited. For what, she didn’t quite know. It was more of a halfway house than a proper foster-home, but it was better than living on the streets. She settled into the halfway house, keeping to herself and staying out of trouble.

One thing she was allowed to take with her was Jäger, her dad’s German Shepherd. Jeremy Grayson had been a K9 Deputy with the Maricopa County Sherriff’s Department, Jäger had been his partner. After the accident, the Sheriff’s Department had told Rosalie that she could keep Jäger, they weren’t going to re-pair him with another Deputy. So, really, she hadn’t lost _all _of her family in that crash, but Jäger was all she had left. She wasn’t going to let anything take him away from her, she would fight like mad if someone tried.

* * *

* * *


	2. Waiting Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosalie begins her wait.

* * *

* * *

As she settled into the system and waited for potential families, Rosalie researched her birth-family. She had been born Christmas Eve 1997, christened Meriwether Rosalie Lansing Holmes, five years old when she was given up for adoption. Under the heading “Cause for Surrender/Adoption” had only read “Undisclosed”. Hers had been a closed adoption, but not because the family giving her up hadn’t wanted contact, it had just happened that she never heard from or saw them again.

She learned from the papers that she had two brothers, eighteen and twenty-five years older, practically born to parents now old enough to be her grandparents. Names had been given. Sherlock, Mycroft, Evelyn, and…Arthur. William Sherlock Scott Holmes, Mycroft Alexander Henry Holmes. Those were the names of her two older brothers. There were two more siblings that she uncovered after some searching. A sister younger than William by a year, unnamed, who had died when she would have been seven or eight years old in an accident. And a brother, also unnamed, who had gone missing around the same time the sister was killed. There was something not right, something devious and dishonest, in her family history, but Rosalie didn’t know who was responsible or even how to find the truth.

On the subject of finding, locating her brother William was far easier than Mycroft, William had gone by Sherlock for years by the time she was born and had his own website. Rosalie had fun reading his blog and adding comments when she was intrigued enough to do so. Most of the time she just watched him troll his readers. But his blog led her to different websites for criminology and coding. She learned to read, write, and break codes, she was able to pick six different locks with a piece of wire and a hair-pin, she could hack and reprogram three different types of security systems, and after a few back-and-forth conversations, learned how to build her own lock-picking kit. Or, she would have, if one hadn’t arrived in the mail for her in discrete packaging a week later. He sent her, without knowing who she was, a lock-picking kit and a retractable pocket-magnifier. He only knew her by her user handle DreamRaider, so she guessed he had traced her IP address and gotten her physical address. And she only knew she’d received a package at all when he told her to go to the post-office at her leisure.

After sending her the pocket-magnifier and lock-picking kit, Sherlock started sending her puzzles, bits of information from cases to see if she could solve them. He started writing them in code, so she had to use all of her code-breaking skills to decrypt the messages. It kept her busy, and she helped solve a few cases while she was at it. Rosalie was a little surprised when she received a padded manila mailer with a small sealed security-envelope inside a month after solving a particularly tricky case he’d given her to work out. Inside the mailer and envelope, which was addressed to R. Grayson, 4803 W Creedance Blvd, Glendale, AZ 85310, was nearly a thousand dollars. It was in American currency. Rosalie gasped and ran to her room, locking the door behind her and quickly getting under her bed for the loose floor-board she stashed her cash-box under. She added the thousand dollars to the money already in the cash-box and then pulled up her Skype messenger on her desktop computer. He was online right now, he always seemed to be online. She checked her watch, it was 8:15 pm in Glendale, which meant it was 2:00 am in London. She opened a new chat-window with him and started typing as fast as she could without too many typos.

**Message to Anonymous Otter (sent 08:15 pm)**

**I got your package!**

**Message to DreamRaider (sent 08:15 pm)**

**Oh, good evening, Raider. Is there a problem?**

**Message to Anonymous Otter (sent 08:16 pm)**

**There might be! Why did I get a package from you?**

**Message to Anonymous Otter (sent 08:16 pm)**

**At least…I think it was from you, you’re the only person I know in London.**

**Why did I get money from you?**

**Message to DreamRaider (sent 08:17 pm)**

**Ah, you got that package.**

**Message to Anonymous Otter (sent 08:17 pm)**

**WHY?!**

**Message to DreamRaider (sent 08:18 pm)**

**You helped me solve a case, it’s only fair I pay you for your part.**

**Message to Anonymous Otter (sent 08:18 pm)**

**You…what?**

She was confused. He had paid her for solving a case for him?

**Message to Anonymous Otter (sent 08:18 pm)**

**You don’t owe me anything, Sherlock. I mean, I’m just a lonely seventeen-year-old with nothing better to do with her time than talk to strangers on the internet.**

**Message to DreamRaider (sent 08:19 pm)**

**You are far more than that, my dear.**

**My flat-mate, my…_partner_, insisted when I told him about you.**

**Message to DreamRaider (sent 08:20 pm)**

**He is right, though, it’s not fair for you to help us and not get a share of things.**

**Message to Anonymous Otter (sent 08:20 pm)**

**That’s a thousand dollars! What rates are you charging people for your services?!**

**Message to DreamRaider (sent 08:20 pm)**

**Does it really matter?**

**Message to Anonymous Otter (sent 08:21 pm)**

**No, I guess not. It’s just…weird to get paid for something it took me fifteen minutes to solve.**

**I mean, I solve stuff for the Department here all the time and they’ve never paid me a cent.**

**Message to DreamRaider (sent 08:21 pm)**

**That’s a shame. They should. How many crimes have you solved for them?**

**Message to Anonymous Otter (sent 08:22 pm)**

**A few. Dad used to bring me cases to see if I could solve them.**

**Message to Anonymous Otter (sent 08:22 pm)**

**You weren’t the first person who thought it was a good idea to test me with obscure clues and data.**

**Message to DreamRaider (sent 08:23 pm)**

**Hmm, well. I have another one for you, if you’re interested.**

**It’s a rather boring 5, but you might be able to do something with it.**

**Message to Anonymous Otter (sent 08:23 pm)**

**Does your pal at The Met know you’re getting advice from a seventeen-year-old girl in Arizona?**

**Message to DreamRaider (sent 08:24 pm)**

**Everything I’ve had you working on is from their Cold Case files.**

**I work the live cases with John.**

**Message to DreamRaider (sent 08:24 pm)**

**If we had time, we would involve you more.**

Rosalie smirked and drummed her fingers against the keyboard. She read her brother’s blog, The Science of Deduction, but she also followed his flat-mate’s blog. She had left messages on some of the entries on John Watson’s crime blog about how his blog was the only thing that had gotten her through the court-proceedings after her parents’ death. She had been following the crime blog longer than she’d been aware of her biological family. John didn’t know her name, she held the same handle on both blogs, but she’d be an idiot if he hadn’t noticed her name on Sherlock’s blog.

**Message to Anonymous Otter (sent 08:24 pm)**

**Can you say hi to him for me?**

**Pretty sure he knows I’m a fan, but…yeah.**

**Message to DreamRaider (sent 08:25 pm)**

**You follow John’s blog?**

**Message to Anonymous Otter (sent 08:25 pm)**

**Religiously. Been following it for a while. Since he started it, I think. Hold the same handle there that I do on yours.**

**Message to DreamRaider (sent 08:26 pm)**

**Can you…wait a moment?**

**Message to Anonymous Otter (sent 08:26 pm)**

**Yeah, sure. Not like I have anything to do right now. You should be asleep, btw.**

**It’s after two in the morning over there, don’t you guys sleep?**

She went downstairs with her phone in hand to get a drink from the kitchen.

“Hi, sweetie!” Her foster-mother, Daina Linker, smiled from the range, “Have a good day at school?”

“Yep. Well, as good as can be.” She made a face, “Finals week and all that mess. And graduation prep, on top of that.”

“Oh, you’ll do fine! You’re a smart girl, what are you worried about?”

“That’s just it.” Rosalie muttered, rummaging in the fridge, “Do we have any of that iced tea left?”

“Bottom shelf on the door, sweetie.”

“Ah, capital!” she grabbed the glass carafe of iced tea she’d made three days ago and poured a glass for herself. “Lovely stuff that.”

As she headed back to her room, she heard barking in the back yard.

“Oh, can you let the dogs in, please?” Daina rolled her eyes at the noise. “They’ve been making a racket since five minutes before you got back.”

“Sure!” Rosalie opened the door to the back yard, “Alright, you mad animals! Into the house with you all!” She shouted, rallying the four dogs. Jäger was leading the charge, followed by the family’s three existing dogs.

“Jäger, Rochester, Moy, and…Toby. That is four dogs. And there’s my pretty lady. Hi, Madeline.” Rosalie offered a proper greeting to the calico Maine Coon who ruled the roost and had an agreement with Jäger.

“Madeline’s going to miss you if you ever get adopted out of this house, Rosie.”

“For a cat who doesn’t like people, she sure doesn’t have a problem with me.” Rosalie smiled and scratched Madeline between the ears. Just then, her phone buzzed and she heard the Skype ring-tone.

“Uh oh. Sorry, Daina!”

“Who is that, sweetie?”

“My Londoner friends. They…don’t usually call. This is weird.” She looked at her phone, “Sorry.”

“No, no, go on! Might be important.” Daina winked, “Is that your clever detective friend?”

“Yep.”

“Shoo!” Daina all but ran her out of the kitchen, “And tell them to get some sleep, for Christ’s sakes! It’s two in the morning over there!”

“I already said that!” she yelled over the bannister, “Jäger, Maddie, come on, kiddos!” Jäger and Madeline were on her heel and as soon as she got to her room again, she kicked the door shut and dove for her computer, hitting the Accept Call button with a shaky hand.

_“Hello?!”_

_“Raider?”_

_“Oh my God.”_ Rosalie squealed, waiting for the static to clear between her feed and theirs, a moment later face-to-face across thousands of miles with Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. _“Hi guys, this is a pleasant surprise!”_

_“Ah, a face for the name! She’s prettier than I thought she’d be.”_

_“Be nice, John.”_

_“So, um, to what do I owe the pleasure of talking to the two of you at two o’clock in the morning?”_ Better steer them straight to business, as much as she was willing to talk about absolutely nothing of consequence.

_“It’s eight o’clock in Glendale, isn’t it?”_

_“8:30 here. But not in London!”_ She giggled, _“Jesus! What’s up, guys?!”_

_“That boring 5 turned out to be far more interesting.”_

_“Not in Cold Case anymore?”_

_“Not in Cold Case anymore.”_ The smile on her brother’s face was a little concerning.

“_So, what is it now? If it’s not in Cold Case, it’s not a boring 5.”_ She leaned towards her monitor a bit, _“This is a live case now?”_

_“Very much a live case.”_

_“I thought you two worked those alone. Why bring me into it?”_

_“You’re the smartest person we know, Raider.”_

_“And coming from him, that’s a compliment.”_ John was rolling his eyes.

_“So, what’s up?”_ She saw a flicker of color in her periphery and rolled her eyes.

“Oh, Jesus. Madeline! Not the…Christ.” She tried, and failed, to intervene before Madeline inserted herself into the equation. “Great. Cat on the keyboard.”

_“What was that?” _John asked as she put everything back to rights. _“We didn’t see much.”_

_“Madeline. My foster’s calico. She’s not much for strangers, but she likes me. Say hi, Maddie.” _She held Madeline in sight of the camera,_ “And I’ve got Jäger here, too, he’s sitting on my feet right now.”_

_“Pay up, Sherlock. She likes both.”_ John tapped her brother on the shoulder and she giggled to think that they had bet on something like her preference for pets. Madeline decided to sit on her shoulder, stretched across her shoulder and the back of her chair, and seemed very interested in the conversation.

The boys explained the parameters of the not-boring not-a-5 not-Cold Case case they’d gotten and she took down notes and ran cross-checks with web resources.

_“That’s five minutes, Raider.”_ Sherlock said at the five-minute mark. He always timed her five minutes on a case, this was no different. She flicked her gaze from the browser-windows to her notes and then to the camera.

_“Yeah, don’t know if I got anything useful, but this is definitely not a boring 5.”_ She raised an eyebrow, _“You ready?”_

_“When you are, love.” _John was ready on their end, Sherlock had his hands folded under his chin, focused on the camera but not really looking at it.

Putting the browser windows to print out, she started going over her notes, comparing what she had with what they had in London. As she looked over a Google Maps view of London, she focused on some warehouses in Canary Wharf. She zoomed in close and took a screen-shot, which she sent over chat.

_“If that’s not what you need, we’re out of luck, but the descriptions are right.”_

_“No, that’s right. What’s the time?”_

_“Uh, it’s almost nine here. How much time did you have?”_

_“We should be okay, but we have to go. Now. We’ll call in two hours.”_

_“Good or bad news, alright? Good luck, boys!”_ She let them hang up and said a prayer that they would be in time to save the victim in question. She got some homework done, worked on a few cold cases Sherlock sent over email, having scanned the originals, and waited to hear back from the boys. She heard from them about two hours later.

**Message to Rosie (sent 10:30pm)**

**You were right about the warehouses. Victim safely recovered, suspect in custody. – SH**

**Message to Rosie (sent 10:31pm)**

**Taking John to hospital. Be in touch. – SH**

“Oh, no, now what happened?” she muttered.

**Message to Sherlock (sent 10:31pm)**

**Wht happened? John’s okay? – R**

**Message to Rosie (sent 10:32pm)**

**Should be. Will call when possible. Got to go. – SH**

“Rosie? Everything okay?”

“He’s so irritatingly _vague_.” She was watching a movie with her foster-family when the text came in, and checked her watch, “Christ, it’s almost four in the morning over there.”

“What happened, sweetie?”

“I got a cold case that turned live, picked the location, and just heard back.” She took a sip of her drink, “I shouldn’t be doing this, I’m seventeen years old!”

“But you love doing it. Where was it this time?”

“London. Warehouse in Canary Wharf.”

“Everyone alright?”

“Victim was recovered in time, it was a kidnapping. The suspect’s in custody, probably not going anywhere soon, and one of my friends is on his way to the hospital. Not a clue what happened.”

“Who _are _your friends, Rosie? You’ve been talking to them for months.”

“Oh. These two.” She found a good, halfway decent picture of John and Sherlock and handed the phone to Mark Linker, who looked at it, and smirked when his eyes went wide.

“Daina, look at this.”

“What is it?”

“You know, you could get into so much trouble when they figure out you’re just seventeen.” Her foster-brother Orlando muttered. “And a _girl_.”

“Who says girls can’t be smart, too?”

“You’re a _Zero_.” He hissed furiously, “No one is _ever _going to want you! You’re, what, seventeen and you _still _haven’t Presented?!”

“Orlando, please shut up. It’s not like I’m the _only _one ever, you know.” She snapped, hating that he knew exactly how to hurt her without ever laying a hand on her. But he was good at _that_, too.

“Rosalie?” Daina interrupted their bickering.

“Yes, ma’am?” Rosalie turned like radar, eager for a distraction.

“This is a picture of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Is this who you’ve been talking to?”

“Yes, ma’am. But we’re not even close to being strangers.” She didn’t say anything about the stack of cold-case files she would be working on as soon as she got five minutes. Mark and Daina shared a look and she got up from the couch, taking her phone back. Rosalie went into the kitchen and did the dishes. After she unloaded the dish-washer, she stacked her dishes and the dishes used to fix dinner, wiped down the counter-tops and range, and took out the trash, putting down a fresh liner in both of the bins. Going upstairs, she finished her review-sheets and sat on her bed with her laptop open to her Skype window, sorting through some of the cold-case files Sherlock had sent her after printing them out for hard-copy.

She was buried in a six-year-old murder case when she heard a knock at her door.

“Come in.” She called quietly, glancing up. The door creaked open, she never closed her door all the way except on rare occasions, and Mark popped his head around the frame.

“Hey. You busy?”

“Nope.” she pushed her headphones off her ears to sit around her neck, “What’s up?”

“Just making sure you’re okay. You haven’t worked a live case before.”

“I’m fine.” She smiled as he came in with two mugs, “Really.”

“What’cha working on now?”

“Old case, long cold. Not terribly interesting, wouldn’t rate it above a 4.” She handed him the file, taking one of the two mugs in exchange, “But a Cold Case is a Cold Case and we don’t complain. He still gets paid for solving cold-case crimes, so there is that.”

“Hmm.” Mark skimmed the information, taking note of handwriting in the margins, “That’s not your handwriting, is it?”

“Nope, that’s Sherlock’s handwriting. At the bottom is some of Doctor Watson’s. Two of the smartest people in London solving crimes and blogging about it.” She chuckled, “And occasionally forgetting to wear clothes while doing it.”

“Pardon?”

“High-profile case a while ago. Apparently, Mr Holmes showed up at Buckingham Palace in nothing but a bedsheet.” She grinned, “I don’t know anything specific about that case, it’s all very hush-hush, but there was a bit of a scandal about it. They solve crimes, Sherlock forgets his pants, and Doctor Watson blogs about it.”

“And this is what you do when you’re up here by yourself?”

“Sometimes, yeah.”

“You’re not working for free, are you?” Mark frowned, handing the case-file back. Not that she was hurting for money, of course, but it was a legitimate concern.

“I wasn’t going to _ask_, I mean, I’m in a different time-zone for one thing, but he sent me money for the cases I’ve helped them solve over the past month.”

“And paid you _well_, I hope? You’ve been doing it for a whole month!”

“Better than I was expecting. I can’t remember what his rates are for taking a case, but I guess they’re not doing too badly. At least, I don’t _think _they are.” She tapped her fingertips against her jaw. She pulled up Sherlock’s website and clicked through until she reached the part of the site that laid out his rates. Private rates were listed alongside his consultancy rates, and she raised an eyebrow.

“That explains it.”

“And they’re splitting a flat-share in Central London…why?” Mark got a look at the rates and huffed in disbelief.

“Getting a good deal from their landlady, apparently, and he gets money from a trust fund every month. Watson gets a pension from the Army, but it pays a bit.” She picked up one of the files, “I get the feeling there’s more money between them than they spend or know what to do with.”

“On which side?”

“Both.” She chewed on her lip, “John Watson’s not just a friendly doctor in fuzzy jumpers. He was in the Army for a while. Long enough to have a dark record.”

“Observant girl.” Mark smiled.

“I wasn’t expecting them to call me, though. I’m glad they did, it was nice to put faces to names and hear their voices. They’re good together.”

“You said they cleared up that 5 you were on?”

“Yeah, but I’m kind of worried about Doctor Watson. I think he got hurt tonight and Sherlock isn’t being very up-front about it.”

“Has he figured you out yet?”

“You mean does he remember?” She snorted, “Not likely. I mean, I don’t know if he’d say anything if he _did_ know.” Rosalie sorted files, matching up papers to the proper case, “I don’t think he’s looked that far into my records. For all intents and purposes, it was a closed adoption.”

“Was it really, though?”

“Far as I can tell. I mean, if it wasn’t, wouldn’t they have written me letters?” she scribbled some notes on the page margins.

“All that matters, sweetie, no matter what happens, you’ve got a family out there. And you’ve got us.”

“Thanks, Dad.” She smiled, wrinkled her nose when he kissed her on the temple, “Ugh! Dad!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Sorry. Sleep well, sweetie.” He laughed and messed up her hair as he walked out of her room, “Mind if I leave the door propped?”

“For Jäger and Maddie? Yeah, no problem.”

“Goodnight, Rosie.” He smiled and closed the door until it just touched the jamb. She closed the door properly five minutes later when Jäger nosed his way in with Madeline right on his tail. She slid the lock into place and checked for updates from her brother. Nothing. She sighed and fired off a text.

**Message to Sherlock (sent 11:15 pm)**

**If you get this, I just wanted to see how John’s doing. Hope all is well in London. Text or Skype me when you get a chance. Off to bed for me now, so I’ll hopefully talk to you guys later. Glad I could help with the case. – R**

After sending the text, she went into the en-suite bathroom and brushed her teeth. She let her hair down and brushed it out before she pulled it back for bedtime. Wearing a pair of booty shorts and a tank-top, she climbed into bed. With Jäger sleeping at the foot of her bed and Madeline taking over her pillow, Rosalie fell asleep with her phone on low-volume and vibrate, just in case she got a text or another call. 

***

It was nearly midnight her time when her phone lit up. She knocked it off the bedside table and had to dig for it under her bed. It was a phone-call. A legitimate phone-call, not a Skype call like last time. She didn’t recognize the number right away, but she recognized the country-code. It was either Sherlock or John, going by the numbers. Rosalie groaned and reached for her earbud headphones, plugging them into her phone’s audio-port after tucking them into her ears.

_“It’s midnight here, and I’ve got finals in the morning. I hope this is important.”_

_“Hi, sweetie.”_

_“Oh my God! John!” _ She tried to sit up but was pinned by Jäger on her feet and Madeline on her shoulder.

_“You’re okay! Thank Christ!”_

_“I think you’ll forgive our resident drama-queen.”_

_“I can make a concession, I guess.” _Rosaliegot comfortable, this conversation could take a while._ “What happened? Are you really okay? How bad was it?”_

_“I’ll be fine.” _John’s voice was soft and soothing in her headphones, _“It’s you we’re a little worried about.”_

_“Don’t worry about me, Captain. I’m not the one who went running off after mad criminals.” _ She smiled, _“Has anyone ever told you that you have a nice voice?”_

_“Uh…no. I don’t…no. No, they haven’t.”_

_“Shame.” _ She yawned, unable to help the reflex. _“Did I make you blush?”_

_“A bloody seventeen-year-old girl made me blush.”_

_“Oh, come on, you can’t tell me I’m the first!”_

_“No, but you are one of the youngest.” _He huffed, and she heard a muffled groan.

_“You owe me a straight answer, John Watson. What the hell happened?” _ She tried to keep her voice down, _“All he said was that you were being taken to hospital.”_

_“Oh, glass shrapnel and bruising. I’ve been far worse.”_

_“Glass?! What did you do, John?!” _ She bit her lip, _“Oh my god.”_

_“I’ll be alright, though. He looked worse than I did when they dragged us out.”_

_“Out? Out of what?” _ she looked up from her pillow, where she’d buried her face.

_“Took a bit of a swim, too. Sorry.” _He coughed, a sick-sounding wet cough.

She thought over the evidence, what she knew about the situation. John had given her his symptoms, their causes. Broken glass, bruising, and…he’d been pulled from the Thames. He’d been attacked, and tussled with his assailant, going through a window and fallen into the river from…what height? One story, two?

_“You’re an idiot, John Watson.” _ She marvelled at how steady her voice sounded to her own ears, _“But you’re my brother’s idiot, so take care of each other.”_

_“Brother?”_

_“Is he there?” _ she hadn’t meant to let that slip, but it was out now.

_“No, he’s…downstairs. I’m in my room on the second floor.”_

_“John?”_

_“Hmm?”_

_“I don’t know if anyone remembers me, but Sherlock Holmes is my brother.”_

_“That explains your intelligence if nothing else.”_

_“Mmhmm.” _ She sniffled, _“I’ll send you the adoption papers in the morning, just so you can see them.”_

_“I believe you, sweetie. You look a little bit like him, I believe you.” _She heard him yawn and checked the time. It was almost 12:30, which meant it was 6:30 in London. Rosalie groaned.

_“Oh my God, John! It’s 6:30 in the morning in London!” _ She rubbed her forehead. _“Don’t tell me you just got home when you called me!”_

_“Sorry, love.”_

_“Christ, you pair of idiots! You’ve been in the hospital all this time?!”_

_“Near about.”_

_“Go. To. Sleep. John Watson.” _ She sighed, _“I’ve got another final tomorrow, so I’ll be able to talk again soon.”_

_“Goodnight, Rosie Holmes. Sleep well, and good luck with your finals tomorrow.”_

_“Goodnight, John.” _She swiped out of the call and fell asleep with her headphones in.

* * *

* * *


	3. The Future's Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Changes are coming. Fast. Rosalie returns to London.

* * *

* * *

After those first few calls with Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, Rosalie finished her finals, including her AP finals, and finished all of her graduation preparations. She was graduating from high school at seventeen, but she was ready to move on with her life. She had refrained from applying to any colleges, deciding instead to take a Gap Year to travel and basically just figure out her life. She planned to use some of the money she had set aside to fund her travels, she wanted to visit Britain and maybe see about making contact with some of her family, if she could just get up the nerve to do it. She also re-filed for emancipation since she was not yet 18.

Six months later, Rosalie received a summons to appear in court regarding her biological family and the adoption. Fearing the worst, she made her appearance with her social-worker. Daina Linker took her shopping for new clothes, insisting that she at least look _halfway _decent for the judge and bemoaning her state of appearance. Rosalie had a slew of tattoos and a few piercings more than might be considered socially acceptable, but they were rather tasteful and the tattoos were carefully chosen and deliberately placed. A white-ink tattoo of the Evenstar on her upper back between her shoulder-blades; an otter that wrapped around her lower back and right thigh done in black with blue whiskers and claws; and on her shoulder and upper arm, trailing down her arm just above her elbow, was another, more delicate tattoo. A watercolour-style hummingbird, soft lines of colour blended into a delicate piece of living art, the bird done in greens and blues, a string of beads and roses hung from the beak and wrapped her bicep and upper arm. The last tattoo was an in memoriam for the Graysons. She had double piercings in both ears and a cartilage piercing in her left ear, as well as an eyebrow piercing and a lip ring. She had never messed with her hair, aside from dying it various colours. At the moment, it was a rather shocking blend of teal and purple in bold ombre streaks alongside her natural hair colour.

All piercings and tattoos had, of course, been done with the full consent of her guardian. Or, at least, Mark Linker’s consent. Daina wasn’t terribly fond of body-modification but understood that it was ultimately Rosalie’s personal choice. As long as she had the permission of one of her guardians, there was nothing to really complain about. Mark had been the one to go with her to every appointment and session, helping her pick out the right studio and signing all of the proper forms when required to do so, holding her hand during the inking sessions. A friend of his had been her tattoo-artist, actually, when she settled on a local studio staffed by veterans of the military and local law enforcement.

On the day she appeared before the same judge who had refused her emancipation once before, Rosalie wore red and black plaid leggings, a black fit-and-flare skater-style dress with a high neckline and long sleeves, and combat-boots. She had argued with Daina that morning about her piercings, but in the end, none of them had come out for the hearing. Whoever had bothered to reopen her case was going to get her in all of her rebellious glory. The Grayson family attorneys were both present, along with the family patriarch, who had made the decision that she was not family of his and wanted nothing more than to wash his hands of her when she needed family the most.

Rosalie sat behind the bench with her social-worker, right behind the plaintiff’s table, until her case was called. Daina was there, too, and Mark had promised to try and get off of work so _he _could be there for her. It was nice that she had at least someone on her side, someone who cared about her future. She had a social worker but had never been given her own attorney or hired one. She could afford an attorney, she just didn’t see the point in paying for someone who wouldn’t likely have her true interests in mind.

Today was going to be hell, she figured. A few hours spent listening to the Graysons list in order every reason she wasn’t one of them and therefore they were not responsible for her in any fashion. The judge would deny her emancipation again and she would languish in the system until something was forced to change. But as they waited, Rosalie noticed something important. Until today, she had always reported to the very same court-room. They were in a different room today. She had not been allowed to see the summons, her social-worker wouldn’t let her read it. Which was itself against the law, she had every right to read any documents concerning her case at any time she wished. The Graysons looked nervous, which was not like them.

It wasn’t until the judge entered that she understood _why _things were so different.

“Oh, that’s not Judge Malcolm.” She murmured. This judge was younger and, something that might be in her favour, a woman.

“All rise for the Honorable Judge Clary Lachey.” The deputy standing by the bench called out, and every person in the room got to their feet.

“All sit,” Lachey said bluntly, taking her seat. The deputy consulted his roster and called the first case. Rosalie’s case. Lachey took the file and flipped through it as Rosalie and her social-worker took the plaintiff’s table and the Graysons took the defendant’s table.

“Grayson vs. Grayson. Who is the plaintiff?”

“I am, Your Honor,” Rosalie spoke for herself.

“And the defendant?”

“We are, Your Honor.” The senior Grayson attorney said loudly. Rosalie made a face at him. Being loud did not make you more likeable or more likely to get your way. Lachey raised an eyebrow, consulted her notes, and turned to Rosalie.

“Where is your attorney, Miss Grayson?”

“I don’t have one, Your Honor.”

“You don’t _have _one?” Lachey’s head came up and her voice dropped. That wasn’t a good sign.

“No, ma’am. I was never given one and I certainly can’t afford to pay for one.” Which wasn’t quite true.

“Are you representing yourself then, Miss Grayson?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“That’s gutsy of you.” Lachey looked impressed by that and flipped through the files again. “Do you know why you’re here, Miss Grayson?”

“Yes, Your Honor. This is a custody battle of the worst kind because the family I had doesn’t want me.” She looked at the Graysons, “I was adopted and the family that took me on no longer wants anything to do with me. I’ve been in the system for two years, Your Honor, waiting for something to change.”

“I see. And do you _have _a family somewhere else, Miss Grayson, that may be able to take you on?”

“In the event all other options are exhausted, Your Honor, I think so. I make no promises, as it seems unlikely that the family knows I’m alive.”

“Is this your biological family, Miss Grayson?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“The…Holmes family of Oxshott, Surrey, and London?” Lachey was reading a page of the file.

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“And the grounds for this case are simply that surviving family has no desire to care for the minor in question?” This was directed at the Graysons, who gave a very swift affirmative. Lachey nodded and wrote something on her notes.

“In that case, I’ll do what your former Family Court Judge _should _have done before it ever got to me. I am hereby granting the plaintiff, the minor one Meriwether Rosalie Lansing Holmes nee Grayson, full emancipation.” Lachey looked up at Rosalie and smiled, “Congratulations, Miss Grayson.”

“Oh my god. Really?”

“Case dismissed.” With a crack of the gavel, every minute of grief and disdain she had suffered was…over.

“Come to Chambers, Miss Grayson.”

“Yes, Your Honor!”

“By yourself, Miss Grayson, if you please.”

“Yes, Your Honor!” Rosalie waited until the judge was out of the room before she followed the smiling deputy. There was a rumbling in the crowd, but Rosalie wasn’t really paying attention. She looked over her shoulder at the Linkers, who were beaming, and saw Mark give her a thumbs-up. The Graysons, on the other hand, just looked dumbfounded. This had not gone the way they’d anticipated, and they didn’t know how to handle that. Not that she felt at all sorry for them, not after the way they’d treated her. Two minutes later, she was standing in Clary Lachey’s chambers.

“Richard Malcolm is a misogynist and a sexist bastard. I am so sorry your case ever crossed his desk.” Lachey removed her black robe and hung it on a coat-tree as soon as the door had shut, “If I had to guess, he was in the pocket of the Graysons.”

“I think he was, Your Honor. Thank you so much.”

“For what?”

“For setting me free. They wanted nothing to do with me, but they weren’t about to let me go without fighting it every inch of the way.”

“You’re a smart girl, Grayson. Although, I suppose I shouldn’t call you that anymore, should I?”

“Ma’am?”

“I did my research on your family, the one that gave you up for your own safety when you were five years old.” Lachey smiled, “I know the Holmes family rather well, various useful channels and such.”

“Do they want me back?”

“If you made yourself available to them, I don’t see them turning you out.” Lachey picked up something from her desk, “You can do whatever you like within reason, go where you wish. If you wish to leave Phoenix and fly to London to search for your family, no one can stop you.”

“I think it’s time to go home.” She sighed, “After all these years.”

“I’ll wish you a safe journey and whatever happy ending you can find in London.” Lachey wrote something on a piece of paper and handed it to her, “That is the address at which you’ll find the Sherlock Holmes Detective Agency. I believe they go by the name The Baker Street Detective Agency these days.”

“Thank you, Your Honor.” Rosalie risked a breach of conduct and hugged the judge who had given her the liberty to do whatever she desired with her life.

“My pleasure, Rosalie.” Lachey smiled, not at all fazed by the unexpected intimacy. “Good luck to you in your new life, whatever you plan to do with it.”

“I might look into making contact with the Holmes family.” She shrugged, not really knowing what else she could do now. She had no expectations of them, so it would be hard to disappoint her.

She left the courthouse by herself, having no further use for her social-worker, and returned to the halfway house. Daina was there when she got home, she saw her foster-mother’s car in the driveway. That meant Mark had gone back to work. Rosalie studied the house she’d spent two years in, wondering if she really wouldn’t have to come back here again if she didn’t want to. Going inside, Daina met her at the door and hugged her tight.

“You did, Rosie. You got what you wanted.” Daina said quietly.

“Some of it, anyway. I got emancipation, that was the first step.” Rosalie hugged her foster-mother, knowing she would miss them. She would miss Daina’s cooking, Mark’s teasing and work-tidbits, she would miss the dogs and Madeline. Unless she got to bring Madeline with her, of course.

“Come on, let’s get some lunch. And then we’ll get you packed up and you can go home.” Daina put an arm around her shoulders and they went into the kitchen together.

They were plating up sandwiches when she heard a car on the drive and the slam of the front door.

“Anybody home?” It was Mark, home for lunch. Rosalie smirked and kept at her work.

“In the kitchen!” She called.

“Oh, you stuck around, Rosie!”

“Haven’t ditched Phoenix _yet_, Deputy Linker!” She looked up as he came into the kitchen. “You’re not rid of me quite yet, sir.”

“Did I say something?” He just beamed at her as she handed him a plate.

“Oh, stop that, Moy.” She looked over her shoulder at the sad noise and looked at Mark Linker’s own K9, Moy. All she got for that scolding was a short bark.

“Fine, you moocher. Here, now be quiet.” Rosalie rolled her eyes and tossed a bit of ham to Moy, who snapped up the treat mid-air.

“Moy’s going to miss you, Rosie,” Mark smirked as he took a plate from Daina.

“Oh please, she’s not going to miss _me_, she’s going to miss the free snacks.” Rosalie snorted, reaching down to give Moy a fuss. “I’ll get drinks for everybody.”

“Thanks, love.” Daina took the last plate and they went to the table. Rosalie got iced tea for everyone and sat down at the table with the Linkers.

Lunch was quiet, and after doing the wash-up, Rosalie looked around the kitchen.

“Well, this is it.”

“Off to greater things.” Mark nodded, “You deserve it.”

“I’ll take Jäger for sure.” She looked out into the back yard.

“Oh, take Maddie, she’d hate us if you left her behind.” Daina opened the door and they called the dogs into the house.

“Jäger, Rochester, Moy, and…Toby. That is four dogs. And there’s my pretty lady.” Rosalie was going to miss this strange little ritual, but things were changing.

“Alright, you monsters. Christ knows where I’ll find a place that’ll take pets the likes of you two, but you’re coming with me.”

“I’ll find their cages.” Mark headed into the garage to get the kennels.

“Come on, the movers will be here any minute.” Daina put an arm around her shoulders and they went upstairs together.

Everything in her room was hers to take, so she broke down the furniture and put everything in shipping boxes. Her move from the Linker house had been anticipated after she had filed for emancipation following graduation, so she had contacted Santa Fe Relocation to see about moving. They had given her a quote, a coordinator had been out to the house to inventory her belongings, and SFR had been on standby to wait for the word. A knock at the door five minutes later was the movers. Most of her belongings would be shipped cargo, so it was appropriately packed up for transport by the movers from SFR. Rosalie oversaw the pack-out and moving of her belongings. She double-checked that her storage-unit was going to be cleared out as well. Yes, they were going to clear out her storage-unit once they had cleared her room at the house. Maddie and Jäger were promptly kenneled while she found their pet-passports and made sure everything was in order. She had taken Jäger overseas before, and Maddie was actually an international adoptee _from _London. She had come home with them after one visit when they found her on the streets and Rosalie had spent an extra two weeks in London until she could fly home _with _Maddie. It was probably why Maddie liked her so much. All of their shots were up to date and she anticipated a week-long stay in quarantine for them at worst case. That would give her time to find somewhere to live, get her feet on the ground, and maybe reach out to her family.

As the truck pulled away once everything from the house had been loaded in, Rosalie took a minute to study the house that had been her residence for the last two years.

“Y’know, I think I’m gonna miss this house.” She said. “I’m not going to miss Orlando, though.”

“Don’t worry about him anymore.” Mark said grimly, “You’ll be thousands of miles away and he’s on a short-track to prison if he doesn’t shape up.”

“Don’t get your hopes up. With any bad luck, it would only make him worse.” She muttered. So far, she hadn’t seen her foster-brother since getting back from her emancipation hearing. That was fine with her.

“Come on, kiddo, let’s get you to the airport.” Mark put a hand on her shoulder, “You’ve got a flight to catch.”

“Yeah. Thanks for the ride, Dad.” She smiled at her foster-father, who held the passenger-side door of his squad car. “Oh, nice, I get shotgun!”

“Sure! If you don’t mind some company?”

“Nope!” Getting into the waiting car, she waited while Mark loaded her things into the trunk after getting Moy situated in her kennel. Daina sat in the back seat, and it was quiet as they drove from the Linker’s house to the airport.

When they reached Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport, Mark cheated and parked in the pick-up/drop-off lanes at Terminal 4.

“Abuse of police resources,” Rosalie muttered as she got out of the car.

“I really don’t care if that’s what it is,” Mark said as he let Moy out of her kennel using the remote on his belt before unloading her luggage.

Rosalie had two suitcases to take with her right away with everything she was going to need in England and packed her laptop in her backpack, which was going to be her personal item. She had her chargers, adapters for the outlets in England, and she would buy anything she had forgotten once she got there. She would need clothes when she got to London, enough to last her a week or two. It really just depended on how long things took to settle down in London. Going inside the terminal, she made her way through ticketing, security, and to the proper gate to wait for her flight to be called. 

It was in the pre-security atrium that she took the chance to say goodbye to the Linkers, they really had taken care of her. She wanted to make sure she could come back to their house if things didn’t quite work out.

“Of course you’re welcome back to our house, sweetie!” Daina smiled and hugged her, “Always! Have fun in London, and be safe.”

“Always am.” She kissed Daina on the cheek, “Thank you for everything.”

“Kid, you were one of the easiest fosters we ever got through. You were a true joy.” Mark hugged her tight, “Don’t you be a stranger, alright? Keep in touch with us.”

“Sure! Can’t promise I’ll be that good about it, but yeah. I can get a couple of letters and emails out.”

“Good luck in London, kid.” Mark looked her over, “You’ll need it.”

“Yeah.” She shrugged, adjusting her backpack, and checked her boarding pass. Moy, irritated by being ignored again, barked and jumped up on Rosalie.

“Oi! Some sorry police dog _you _are, Moy!” She scolded, shoving the German Shepherd back onto all fours, “Yes, I’m leaving, no I’m not coming back anytime soon! That does _not _mean you get to break protocol and jump on me!”

“Told ya, she’s gonna miss you when you’re gone.” Mark just chuckled as he tightened his grip on Moy’s lead.

“Ugh. Fine. Come on up, Moy.” Rosalie sighed and patted her shoulders. “I’ll give you a last fuss before I leave.” Moy obediently put her paws up on Rosalie’s shoulder and put her head against the side of Rosalie’s neck, whining.

“Oh, I’ll miss you, girl.” Rosalie stroked the soft fur at Moy’s ruff, “You take care of the house for me, okay? Keep Mark safe at work for me? I’ll see you again, I promise.”

Saying goodbye to the Linkers, Rosalie headed for Security and got through in good time. The last she saw of the Linkers was Mark and Daina at the railings, and Moy with her front paws up on the railing itself so she could see over the side. Rosalie waved and saw them wave back. The line moved forward as they disappeared from view, and Rosalie wished she knew how to classify her emotions. She was excited, but at the same time, she was anxious. So many things had transpired, and a lot of major changes were happening at the same time. Reaching her gate after clearing through Security, she had enough time to get food and ate something before she boarded and set off for Dallas, her one stop-over before London. After a brief layover, she boarded her final flight and settled in for a quiet overnight flight.

***

Rosalie slept most of the trip, waking up with her alarm for a rather spectacular sunrise. She filled out all of her immigration paperwork, making sure all the right boxes were checked, and settled in for landing. Arrival went smoothly and she made her way through baggage-claim and Customs with little trouble. As soon as she had cleared Customs, Rosalie checked her messages. She hadn’t informed anyone she knew in London that she was coming, despite having planned the trip months in advance, so she wasn’t expecting anything too interesting. Or…anything. Rosalie hailed a taxi and debated heading to a hotel, or taking the risk of showing up unannounced at Baker Street.

“Where to, Miss?” The cabbie asked in a polite, cheerful tone. She looked out the window.

“Keystone House, please?”

“Yes’m.” She swore he smiled but didn’t think much of it. The drive out was quiet, the cabbie wasn’t really one for idle chatter, and she dozed off about halfway to her destination. The cabbie was kind enough to wake her when they arrived, carefully shaking her to wakefulness.

“Hmm?” She blinked hard, trying to shake off the jet-lag.

“Keystone House, miss.” He helped her out of the cab and fetched her bags for her. She handed over the fare and a tip for his helpfulness.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Enjoy your stay in London, miss.” He smiled, touched his cap, and was gone after a quick glance at the hostel. Arranging her bags, Rosalie got a bed for at least the night. After settling in, Rosalie shouldered her purse and set off to explore London a bit. She had been here before, but it was kind of nice to be back on her own terms. Spending a few hours doing touristy things in London, but not all of them at once, Rosalie did some exploring of quieter streets before returning to the hostel. Taking a shower, Rosalie got some sleep. She would worry about whatever future she had tomorrow.

Baker Street, when she found herself there the next morning, looked exactly the way she’d seen it before during video-chats and in pictures she’d discovered on the internet. Rosalie stood on the sidewalk with her backpack over one shoulder, studying the unassuming house. The place looked quiet, and she wondered if the boys were even home. She knew about their habits and wondered if they were awake if they were home.

“Well, one way to find out.” She squared her shoulders and knocked on the door. There was enough of a wait that she knocked again. After her second knock, the door was opened to her by the landlady, Mrs Hudson. Rosalie tried not to smile like an idiot when she saw the kind woman.

“Can I help you, my dear?”

“I’m looking for Sherlock Holmes and John Watson?”

“Oh, you’re in the right place, my dear. They’re just upstairs at the moment.” Mrs Hudson threw the door open to her and she went inside. “Did you travel from somewhere, dear?”

“Uh, Phoenix. Arizona. Got in yesterday.” She looked around. “Doubt they were expecting me, but that’s okay. Not like I’ve got anywhere to go.” A pair of coats were tossed haphazardly over the banister, evidence that their owners may have meant to come back. She rubbed the collar of the Belstaff between her fingers, wondering if this was the smartest thing. Mrs Hudson just took her upstairs.

“It’s…quiet.” she murmured.

“Oh, yes, they’re both worn out. Poor things.” Mrs Hudson smiled as they reached the top of the stairs, “Just finished up a nasty case, took all week.”

Mrs Hudson knocked on the door and pushed it open, announcing herself with a soft “woo-hoo!”. It was so quiet in the flat that Rosalie thought maybe the boys were asleep, but then she saw John sitting in his armchair, his back to the door. Her brother was sprawled on the couch, passed out.

“Oh, he’s asleep?”

“Rarely does that.” Mrs Hudson bustled into the flat and straightened up a few things, startling poor John, who must have dozed off.

“Oh! Mrs Hudson! What’s the time?”

“Just after ten, dear! Got a guest this morning.” She looked pointedly at Rosalie, who stood a little awkwardly in the doorway.

“Not another case, is it?”

“Don’t think you’d mind if this one was.” Mrs Hudson just smiled and patted Sherlock on the shoulder, the gesture didn’t wake him at all. Exhausted from whatever case they were coming off of, John shoved to his feet and turned towards the kitchen. He froze, though, when he caught sight of Rosalie standing there. He frowned, trying to place her.

“Uh…Rosalie?”

“Sorry I didn’t call ahead.” She shrugged, looking around the cluttered, homey flat, “Probably should have warned you. Asked first.”

“Oh my god.” He came close and walked around her, “You’re…here. You’re real.”

“I think so?” She yawned, “Half-blind with jet-lag, but…yeah. I’m here.”

“Brave girl, you are.” John smiled and hugged her, far more tightly than she would have expected of a stranger, “Welcome home, Rosie Holmes.”

“Thanks.” She relaxed against him, “Can I stay here for a while?”

“Stay as long as you like!” He was shaking as he hugged her, and she knew he had to get to sleep soon. “I’ll get you settled in, we’ll deal with His Highness later. Did you bring anything with you?”

“Just my backpack, I left the rest of my stuff at the hostel. I wasn’t sure if I’d be allowed to stay here.”

“We’re not turning you out on the streets, Rosie, that’s not fair to you.” He took her backpack from her and put an arm around her shoulders. It was as much to guide her in the right direction as it was to keep himself upright long enough to get Rosalie settled.

Going up to the second floor, she was shown to John’s room. It was empty but homely, and enough room for her. The sheets were freshly laundered and smelled like fabric-softener and detergent. It was a clean, comforting smell, and she took off her shoes and jacket. John showed her the bathroom at the end of the hall, made sure she didn’t need anything else, and told her to get some sleep. She slid under the covers, tugging on the gaudy knit afghan and comforter as the door closed. Well, she’d made it to Baker Street, now it was time to see if she had any future with the family that had more or less abandoned her at the age of five.

* * *

* * *


	4. Chaos Theory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosalie reunites with her brothers. It ... doesn't go very well.

* * *

* * *

After arriving at Baker Street to find her brother and his partner asleep after a hard case, successfully solved if she had to guess, Rosalie slept herself for nearly four hours before she heard a banging sound downstairs and a yell. The commotion startled her and she flipped out of bed, landing hard on the floor. She got her shoes on and cleared the stairs down to the first floor, stopped in her head-long charge by the tall, rather effective barrier of her brother at the bottom of the stairs. She reeled back, almost lost her footing, saved in her fall as he reached out one hand and grabbed her.

“Watch yourself!”

“Sorry!” She gasped, taking her coat from him, “Am I coming with you?”

“Yes. Do keep up, I won’t wait for you.” He was gone in a flash, his great Belstaff swirling like a cape, and she struggled into her coat. Running upstairs, she retrieved her phone and wallet and headed for the street. A taxi waited at the kerb, and she wondered how the hell he did that. She slammed the door behind her once she was in, and Sherlock snapped off the address of wherever they were going.

“Guess you didn’t have to wait, did you?” She huffed, “Where are we going?”

“Vauxhall.”

“Private case?”

“Momentarily.” He was focused on his cell-phone

“You’ll call The Met if you need them?”

“Yes. But we won’t be requiring their services this time, I don’t think.”

“What is it?”

“Missing-persons case.”

“You don’t leave the flat for anything more than a 7. Missing-persons wouldn’t rate _that _high, would it?”

“This one might.” He looked at her and she frowned.

“You’re not exactly put out about finding me in your flat, Sherlock.”

“Why should I be?”

“I can think of a few reasons.” She looked at John, who was trying _so _hard not to smile. After a while, she reached across John and smacked Sherlock in the chest.

“Prat! You _knew_! You knew I was coming!”

“Yes?”

“Fuck you, Sherlock Holmes!”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I might mean that! How long have you known?”

“Are you really asking me that question?” He looked at her, his eyes wide, open, and hurt, “You were _three_, Rosie.”

“And I haven’t had a word out of anyone since then! How. Long?”

“Six months.”

“You could have stepped in.”

“Would you have let us?”

“Of course I would! Why didn’t you?!” She looked at him, “I went into the bloody _system_, Sherlock!”

The rest of the drive to Vauxhall was quiet, and when they reached their destination, she was first out of the cab. When she saw where they were, she gasped.

“Oh my god.”

“Come on, Rosie!” John called from the gates, she had fallen behind.

“Wait a minute! This is…MI6 Headquarters! What are we _doing _here?!”

“Come inside, you’ll see.”

“Shit.” She ran to catch up and followed the boys into a building she had never dreamed she’d get to see the inside of in person. “Mycroft must work here. What does _he _do?”

“Hmm?” John looked over his shoulder as they passed through a check-point, “Say something?”

“Um, is this where Mycroft works?”

“Sometimes.” He smiled, “We’re not sure precisely what it is he does, but he’s important.”

“No kidding! This is SIS headquarters!” She looked around as they passed through a bustling atrium after clearing the check-points, “Sherlock knows where we’re going?”

“Yep.”

“Good, because _I _don’t.” She tried not to get distracted and lose track of them, she had no idea where they were going and if she lost Sherlock and John, she’d be in trouble. Of course, as she finished that thought, she came around a corner and realized she had done _just that_.

“Oh no.” She groaned, “Where did…okay, backtrack. Go back and retrace your steps.” Rosalie backtracked and tried to find the point where she had gotten separated from her brother. She knew better than to freak out in a government building, knew better than to panic. Retracing her steps back to the atrium, she started from square one. When she got to the corner where she had lost track of John and Sherlock, she stood there for a minute and tried to figure out which way they might have gone. Deciding on a direction, she took the left hallway and walked a short way down the hallway, alert to her surroundings. It wasn’t long before she was intercepted, but he was friendly enough.

“You look a bit lost, miss. Are you here with someone?”

“Um. Actually, yeah. Yes to both.” She kept her hands in her pockets, “I’m…looking for Mycroft Holmes?”

The man who had stopped her looked like he could have been either a field-agent or an analyst. He was about Sherlock’s height, so taller, about the same build with a bit more muscle, and shorter, high-cut dark blonde hair and sharp blue eyes set in a narrow, intelligent face. He kind of had the air of a soldier about him, which made her think he was an operative and not stationed state-side. At least, not permanently. He would come and go at the whims of his superiors.

“You must have come with his brother.” He looked her over, taking in every detail about her. “How did you get separated from them?”

“Not a clue! I walked around the corner and they were gone!”

“Never mind, I’ll get you where you need to go.” He smiled and turned, “Keep up this time.”

“I’ll…try.” She trotted after him, “This is probably the strangest thing I’ve ever done.”

“Your accent is unusual. Where are you from?”

“Phoenix, Arizona.” She caught up with the besuited gentleman, “But that’s not where I was born.”

“Mm. Didn’t think so. You’ve got a bit of a local accent, but it’s almost lost. Were you born in London?”

“Um. No. I was born at St. Helier Hospital in Sutton. Family’s from Oxshott.”

“Do you still _have _family there?”

“I think so? I know one of my brothers lives here in London.” She coughed a bit, “You don’t seem that surprised by a complete stranger who got herself turned around in here.”

“Well, it’s not every day someone comes here on business with Mycroft Holmes.” He smirked, looking her over, “At least, no one who isn’t family of some kind. You would be either a sister or a cousin?”

“Sister, actually. And I’m going to kill Sherlock, it’s his fault I got lost in here.”

“Well, I do believe I have safely delivered you to your destination, Miss Holmes.” Her impromptu guide smiled and knocked on the door they had stopped outside of. Receiving a summons from the other side, he pushed it open and peered into the office beyond.

“Sorry to bother you again, M, but I think you might have lost something?”

“Did I?” _That _was Mycroft alright. Rosalie had to remind herself to breathe. Panic had her covering her mouth with both hands.

“Well, _one _of you misplaced something. I simply came to return her to the rest of her party.”

“I _told _you, Sherlock! Jesus, you can’t run off like that and expect someone who’s _never been here before _to know where we’re going!” That was John, scolding her brother. “Thank you, James.”

“It’s alright, Doctor Watson, she’s unharmed.” Her guide smiled and looked over his shoulder at Rosalie, “You can go in now.”

“T-thanks.” Rosalie stepped past him and hesitated in the doorway. Inside the office, she saw John and Sherlock on this side of a wide, formal oak desk neatly cluttered with files, papers, and two computer monitors. On the _other _side of the desk was her brother Mycroft, who looked just the way she had expected him to from the few pictures she’d managed to find of him online. It was very clear to her that whatever Mycroft did in MI6 was very important, and she hesitated to step into his office any further.

“Go on, he’s not going to bite. At least, not hard.” Her guide, James, put a hand between her shoulders, “It’s fine, Rosalie.”

“How did you know my _name_?”

“You and I have met before.”

“We have?”

“At least twice.”

“Oh.” Rosalie suspected she might have run into James during one of her previous visits to London, but no one incident particularly stood out to her. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do, but stepping into the office didn’t seem like a good idea just now.

“Come on, Rosie, it’s fine.” John came to fetch her up and pulled her into the office, “I’m sorry about this.”

“Missing-persons case, my _foot_! I hate you, Sherlock!”

“Get in line, love.” John hugged her, “He asked for you, though. I think he knew you were coming before _we _did.”

“Why didn’t you _do _something?! You knew!” she looked around John to the man behind the desk, “You knew, all along, didn’t you?”

“Does it matter if we did?”

“Yes! Why didn’t you _do _something?! It’s been _eleven years_, I didn’t have a family who cared! The family that raised me wanted me gone! What about the one that gave me up?!”

“Meriwether.”

“I didn’t come all the way here to be treated this way! By _any _of you!” She snapped.

“Meriwether.”

“No! You can’t _do _this to me!” Turning, Rosalie pulled away from John, who was smart enough to let her walk away.

“**Meriwether, stop**!” Mycroft spoke in a stern tone and she stopped at the door, against her own will. She knew what this was, but why was it affecting _her_? She was a Null, wasn’t she? Alpha-Command should have no effect on her at all!

“Let me go, Mycroft.”

“What is wrong?”

“I said, let me go.”

“Why are you in such a hurry to leave?”

“I came here looking for my family! I thought I had one, but I think I was mistaken.” She looked over her shoulder at her eldest brother, “Now, for the last fucking time, let. Me. Go. I am no timid Omega for you to boss around!”

“Where will you go?”

“That is none of your fucking business, is it? You have no _right _to what I do or where I go in London and you cannot stop me from leaving this office.” Rosalie snarled, trembling with anger. This was all so wrong and there was no way to fix it. Turning from her brother, she looked at James.

“Get out of my _way_, James.”

James stood aside and didn’t stop her from leaving the office. He _did_ follow her, guiding her back out of the building.

“Where will you go now?”

“I don’t know. Home?”

“You’ll go back to Phoenix?”

“At least I have people there who care about me.” She didn’t know why it bothered her so much, or even really what she had actually expected. “Coming here was a mistake.”

“Was it really, though?”

“Well, considering both of my brothers turned out to be complete assholes? Yeah! You and Doctor Watson were the nicest to me, and you’re not even family!”

“Family is what you make it, Rosalie. I can’t make you stay here, I can’t ask you to forgive them, but there are people in London who care about you.” He took her out and hailed a cab for her. Before sending her on her way, he handed her a business card, “If you ever need anything, call me. No matter what it is or what time it is. You need a friend.”

“Thank you.” She pocketed the card and climbed out of the cab, hugging him because it seemed like the right thing to do, “Whoever you really are, thank you for being kind.”

“Go clear your head, love. But be careful, London can be a cruel town.”

“Yeah, I know.” She sniffled and got back into the cab, “Thank you.” He closed the door for her and she sent the driver back across the bridges to Westminster. Her fare had been paid by James, wherever she ended up going the fare would be billed to his account. It was a kind thing for him to do and she got out at Big Ben. No one bothered her as she wandered the area, visiting Big Ben itself, the Palace of Westminster, House of Commons, and Westminster Abbey. Then she walked north to St. James Park and made her way to Buckingham Palace.

It didn’t take long for her to pick up a tail, and she knew it was bad news. It looked like a couple of homeless, about her age or just a bit older. Raised in a blue-shield household, Rosalie knew the signs of being followed. There were four of them, shady-looking blokes the lot of ‘em. She put her phone into an interior pocket and slid her drivers-license and bank-cards into another pocket. Rosalie turned down Dean Farrar Street from Dacre Street, which ran past The Metropolitan Police Service’s New Scotland Yard headquarters, trying to lose her tail. She didn’t get far, as she was grabbed from behind and pulled into the side-street that dead-ended after a block.

There was no one in the side-street right now, and she didn’t have a chance to scream for help. But Jeremy Grayson had put her through self-defence classes and trained her himself how to fight back against an assailant. He had always taught her to go for the face and the groin, two very sensitive places on the human body. She used her body as a weapon, she used her purse, she used her hands. She ended up breaking the arm of one of her would-be assailants, one of his buddies pulled a knife on her.

“Ugh. _Really_?” She rolled her eyes, “Moron.” He came at her, she fought him off, sweeping the knife from his grasp as she squeezed his wrist hard, digging her thumb into the pressure point. She stomped on his foot and felt the crackle as she broke his jaw. He dropped with a whine and she looked at the one still standing.

“Are you really going to fight me? Or whatever it is you were planning? Rape, maybe?”

“Jesus Shit!” He gaped, staring at the sight of his three buddies sprawled on the pavement, “You’re right mad, you are!”

“I am _not _a helpless tourist. Dad was a _cop_, sonny boy, and taught me everything I know. So scram before I add you to the body-count!” She snarled. He took off like a shot and she found some discarded rope to tie the other three together. Collecting her purse and brushing her jacket off, she kicked one of them in the leg for good measure.

“I’ll be back for you three.” She snapped, “Ta, gents.”

As she headed for the entrance to the side-street, Rosalie dialled The Met’s emergency line. It rang through and a dispatcher answered.

_“Yes, I’d like to report a disturbance near Dean Farrarr and Dacre.”_

_“Has anyone been hurt, ma’am?”_

_“__I don’t know, but I think there were five of them. I did see one of them run away, and I did hear them shouting.” _She offered. When asked, she gave perfect descriptions of the suspects, including the one she’d sent running. Promising that cars would be sent to investigate, the dispatcher hung up after Rosalie asked to maintain her anonymity.

Content that the thugs would get their just desserts, or at least a good scare from the police, Rosalie put her hands in her pockets and continued on her way. But instead of going back the way she’d come, she struck out north from where she had been accosted and beaten sense into a couple of would-be delinquents. It would stick raw with them to know they’d been whipped by someone they had mistakenly taken as an easy target. That was fine with her, she knew her business. Even in a different city all but abandoned by any family she might have had or wanted.

* * *

* * *


	5. Intervention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A timely intervention on Rosalie's behalf and an old rival features.

* * *

* * *

As she walked along Tothill Street, going west from where Tothill intersected with Dean Farrar, Rosalie didn’t miss the fact that she was being followed. Again. Cameras and a rather subtle black Jaguar that stayed a neutral distance behind in traffic. Finally, after nearly two miles of this, having lost the car at least once, Rosalie stopped on the kerb. She was on the corner of Chester Street and Grosvernor Place now, having walked quite a long way from her last location on Dean Farrar Street. As she had suspected, the Jaguar was following her and slid to a smooth halt alongside her. The window rolled down and she peered in. The man driving looked like he knew his business, there was something about him that screamed hired muscle. But it was more than that, he was ex-military if she was reading him right.

“Rosalie Holmes?”

“It’s Grayson, actually. Who’s asking?”

“Someone who would rather not say.” The driver made eye-contact, but despite the subtle threat in his words, Rosalie didn’t feel anything like danger.

“You’re not one of Mycroft Holmes’s people, are you?” She had to ask, had to make sure.

“Absolutely not.” That got her a smile. “Get in, please, Miss Grayson. You’re welcome to sit shotgun if you’d like.”

“Well, fine.” Rosalie shrugged and opened the door, getting in without wasting another minute.

As they rejoined traffic, Rosalie studied her driver. Ex-military, Army, maybe Special Forces, kept to himself after making sure she was settled. Definitely not someone employed by her brothers. Fine, she didn’t want much to do with them at the moment.

“I don’t suppose you would tell me _where _we’re going?” She asked.

“No, ma’am.”

“Figured I might as well ask.” She sniffed, “Well, as long as you’re not one of Holmes’s people, I guess that’s fine.”

“Mm, not on speaking terms with them, then?”

“No, I am _not_, if that makes any difference to your employer! But you’d better know, I’m not to be bought off.”

“Oh, you don’t think _that_ about us, do you?” He looked over at her and grinned. “You _do_ think that, don’t you?”

“Fuck you, is what I think.” She gave him a look and debated sticking her tongue out.

“Oh, he’s going to love you!”

“Who?”

“My boss.” He chuckled.

“And what about you?”

“Colonel Sebastian Moran, at your service.”

“Ooh, I was _right_! I knew it!” Rosalie couldn’t help it. “I _knew _you were military! Special Forces, were you?”

“Best in my day.”

“Nicely done. Army?”

“Yes’m.”

“Called it. Shame if they booted you on a Dishonourable, though.”

“Oh, clever girl, aren’t you?” He smiled. “You can just call me Seb if you’d like.”

“Rosie, if you don’t mind.”

“After you, dear!”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Rosalie smiled and dropped her purse between her feet. “Oh, I don’t suppose you know anything about the gang that tried to take me unawares back on Dean Farrar Street, would you?”

“I know enough that I can promise they’ll pay for that misstep if they get away from The Met. Wouldn’t count on _that_, any time soon.” Seb’s eyes narrowed and he looked at her, “I’m very sorry about that unpleasantness.”

“Considering the unpleasantness I walked away from earlier, that was _nothing_.” Rosalie looked out the window. They were leaving Central London.

“My old man was a cop back in Glendale, taught me how to look after myself.”

“Which several individuals have taken for granted or were just ignorant of.” Seb gave her a sideways look. How much did he know? Or what did he _think _he knew?

They drove almost an hour south of London, but Rosalie never felt threatened. Seb kept the conversation going, they talked for nearly the whole trip, and let her chose the music. Which went against the unspoken rule “Driver picks the music, Shotgun keeps his mouth shut”, but she didn’t mind. When they finally reached their destination, Seb parked on a broad, paved drive. Rosalie’s door was opened for her by a man in black tactical fatigues with a ballistics helmet and a rifle.

“Where are we?”

“Oxshott. We’re fifty miles from London.”

“Oh, that’s far enough for you!” She blinked. “Wonder how long it’s going to take anyone to miss me.”

“Come along, Rosie! Business to see to!” Seb was waiting by a pair of double doors that made up the primary entrance to the house, which was huge.

“Holy hell! This place is enormous!” Rosalie blinked. “What are we doing _here_?”

“I told you, my employer is very interested in meeting you.” He ushered her into the house, “No harm or threat will come to you here, Rosie, and those who accosted you in Westminster this morning will be ... handled.”

“I couldn’t convince you to let me scare the sense out of them first, could I?”

“Are you asking?”

“I’m in a really, _really _bad mood. Between jet-lag, my fucking foster-brother, and the fact that Sherlock Holmes in person is no one I want anything to do with right now, take your fucking pick of the bad-luck litter!”

“Back already, Sebby? That was quick!” A man’s voice came down from the next floor up, thickly accented but pleasant. Higher in pitch but not irritating. Rosalie looked up, looking for the source, and found him standing by the ornate rail of the first-floor gallery.

“We’ve got a bit of a problem, Boss.”

“Sherlock Holmes’s little sister? I don’t see what the problem could possibly be!”

“She’s not on speaking terms with any of them, and I think she had a bit of trouble with some of the gang.”

“Oh? Any permanent damage done?”

“No one was killed if that’s what you’re asking. Three concussions, one broken arm, a broken jaw, and a warning.” Rosalie studied the dark-haired man standing above her, “If those were yours, sir, you need to find yourself some smarter thugs.”

“I never said they were the smartest of the lot, but I am sorry they tried to take advantage of you.”

“Don’t know what made them think I was an easy target. I’m a fucking cop’s daughter, I’m not helpless!”

“Oh?”

“Maricopa County Sheriff’s Department, actually.”

“Oh, aren’t you just a delight?” He smiled and leaned against the railing, “I wonder if they’ve missed you yet?”

“I don’t care if they’ve missed me.”

“Well, would I be wrong assuming they are family to you?”

“No one I want to do with right now.” She looked at Seb. “You know my name, probably know everything about me, who are you, then?”

“Just call me Jim, my dear!” He smiled a slightly dangerous smile. “I marked you a Holmes as soon as I saw your face, you look rather a lot like silly Sherlock.”

“Silly Sherlock!” Rosalie snickered. “Silly Sherlock and Moron Mycroft! Thanks for that!”

“Oh, the _spite_ I hear in your voice, darling! Sebby, do be a love and bring the girl upstairs, will you?”

“Yes, sir.” Seb just nodded and waited until his boss was out of sight. Rosalie choked and looked at him as they began their climb to the first floor above.

“Sebby?!”

“Hush, you.”

“Ooh, he calls you _Sebby_!”

“He has nicknames for just about everyone. Don’t get too cosy, he’ll give _you _one if you’re not careful!”

“He doesn’t scare me at _all_.”

“He should, but quite honestly, I would pay a king’s ransom to see Mycroft’s face when he finds out where you ended up.”

“Why is that?”

“Remember what I told you on the drive over?”

“Yeah.” She followed him up to the second floor and through a bar area out to a small terrace where they found Jim and another armed guard. Seeing Seb, the guard disappeared without a word.

“So. Lucky me.” Jim didn’t look at them, he kept his back to them as he leaned his head back. “I found Baby Sister Holmes.”

“I’m a nobody.”

“Oh, you don’t _really _believe that, do you?”

“The family I was born into gave me up when I was three, cut off all contact. When my adopted parents died two years ago, I was left with nothing because _that _family decided they didn’t want a fucking thing to _do _with me! And then I made an effort to reach out to whatever family I had left and got burned for it.”

“You speak very bitterly of that.” He turned his head. “You resent them, all of them, don’t you?”

“Can you _blame _me, Mr Moriarty?” She knew bloody well who she was standing behind.

Between the shit she had seen growing up in blue-line households, helping her ungrateful brother solve cases from halfway around the world, and just in the few hours she’d been in London, Rosalie had seen things a lot more frightening than Jim Moriarty. Who wasn’t exactly as dead as he was supposed to be. But, in fairness, neither was Sherlock Holmes.

“Oh, clever girl.” He didn’t move as she came up alongside him and reached over, deftly snatching the lit cigarette from his fingers.

“Thief, as well.”

“Worst of my vices, don’t even try me.”

“My dear, I’m under the impression you could make it look like a complete accident if pressed.”

“Not _that _good, and you’re not on my shit-list right now.” She sniffed, taking a pull from the cigarette. The burn was perfectly distracting, and she handed it back to him. “Everyone else I know is, but you? No. Besides, I don’t think Seb would like that much if I tried to off his boss.”

“It’s not just the way you’ve been treated by Holmes that bothers you, is it?”

“What, you’re not going to tell me what’s wrong? Why I’m in such a bad mood?”

“Well, that’s not a very nice thing to do, is it?”

“Huh.” She rolled her eyes.

“What is it, then? I am all ears.”

“I really doubt you care two spits about the fact that my brothers are both morons and treated this like a game. They_ knew_, have known for fuck knows how long and never bothered to reach out! And then Sherlock, the fucking _idiot_, says he has a “missing person’s case” and drags me along!”

“And that’s how you ended up at MI6?”

“Let me tell you one thing about that shit-show.” She folded her arms against the balustrade, “James Bond is a gentleman and it’s a fucking shame he’s so much older than I am.”

“Ooh, don’t waste your efforts on Bond. There are better, far more deserving sorts.”

“Girlhood dream to marry a man of mystery.” Rosalie shrugged. “But aside from my biological family being a bunch of fuckwits, you have my stupid foster-brother, who went out of his fucking _way _to ruin my chances of ever getting a good placement. It’s more than circumstance that I got placed with the Linkers, it had to be, but Orlando, he … ” She trailed off. It wasn’t just fury, it was grief. She had left Glendale not just to seek out whatever family she might still have, but to escape Orlando. She wasn’t aged-out of the system, of course, but even this distance between them was … helpful?

“He hurt you?”

“He sabotaged me. Even worse.” 

“These are malicious, deliberate.” Jim took her hand in his and pushed her sleeve back to bare specific bruises on her forearm. “He tried to ruin your life, he threatened you, didn’t he?”

“He kept telling me that girls … that people like me don’t deserve to be happy. He said I was broken, worthless, he called me a Zero all the time.” She said quietly.

“He called you _what_?” Jim’s voice dropped an octave and took an edge that should have scared Rosalie.

“Zero. It’s a dirty word for … ”

“Nulls and people who Present late if at all. I know that word, what it means, the kind of people it’s used to abuse.”

“He didn’t like that I was smarter than him and … ”

“He brutalized you. I imagine he wasn’t alone in this?” How the _hell _did he know about that? How the bleeding hell did he _know_? Rosalie shook her head, so angry and upset by it she couldn’t say it out loud.

“But your foster-parents _didn’t _know he was doing this?”

“No!”

“I find it difficult to believe that someone as experienced as Mark Linker wouldn’t know the signs of sexual abuse in his own household.”

“I … hid the truth, I covered the evidence. There were never broken bones or very many bruises that couldn’t be concealed by clothes or carefully applied makeup.”

They knew Orlando was physically abusive, but he never really _hurt _her. They _didn’t _know about the nights Orlando broke into Rosalie’s bedroom, shoved a pair of socks into her mouth and taped them into place to gag her, and held a knife to her throat as he raped her. That was a more recent development, only a few months old, but Rosalie still kept her mouth shut because … well …

“Rosalie.”

“He said he would kill me if I told anyone.”

“But surely a doctor would have noticed the signs?”

“He’s cruel, not reckless.” She shook her head.

“You never said the words. You never said anything because you’ve never seen a doctor since this started.”

“Nope.”

“What is your foster-brother’s name?”

“Orlando Garza. I’m pretty sure he’s not in the country legally.”

“Mhm.” He retrieved a phone from his pocket and unlocked it with a quick swipe, scrolling through contacts and selecting one. “Would I be wrong to assume you were raped by your foster-brother recently?”

“The night before I flew to London.”

“Less than twenty-four hours ago. Right, then.” Moriarty raised the phone to his ear. “Seb, take her inside, get her settled. I’ll be in shortly.”

“You got it, Boss.”

“And find me everything there is on Orlando Garza. I want it all yesterday.”

“Roger that.” Seb took Rosalie back inside and showed her a bedroom suite.

“This is nice.” She looked around, exploring the suite for herself. “Real nice.”

“You know you’re safe here.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of weird.” Rosalie sat on the bed. “He’s … nicer than I was expecting. Also, not quite as dead. How did that work?”

“It’s never twins.” Seb just grinned and she frowned, thinking that over.

“It’s … never twins. But … ” She shook her head, “But there weren’t … ”

“Richard Brook wasn’t a persona.”

“Holy shit! Richard James Brook! James Richard Moriarty! Identical twins, change the last name and no one’s the wiser!” Rosalie covered her mouth with both hands. “Richard James Brook and James Richard Moriarty were brothers, holy fucking shit!”

“You’re a properly clever girl, Rosie. Too bad your brothers are such morons.”

“Oh my god.” She let out a slow breath. “Oh my god.”

“The list of people who have hurt you is getting longer, but Garza just got bumped to the top.” Seb studied her, his expression was both gentle and stern.

“Really?”

“Say the word and he disappears.” It was an awfully tempting offer, but Rosalie wasn’t sure if she was reluctant because she knew it wouldn’t do any good or because _she _wanted to do the deed.

Seb stayed with her until Jim came to inform them that a doctor had been called upon to make a visit to the house on Rosalie’s behalf. She didn’t ask how, knowing better than that. Seb distracted her, giving her a tour of the house and the grounds to keep her occupied and get her used to the compound. Two hours later, Seb showed her into a small suite on the first floor and told her to wait. The room, usually vacant, had been set up as an exam room akin to almost any doctor’s office Rosalie had ever set foot in. There was a padded exam-table, covered with paper, she spotted the stirrups tucked under the end of it; several pieces of equipment such as a monitor that would display her vitals and others; and she swallowed hard at the sight of a few trays. Oh boy. Well, when Jim wanted things done, he didn’t cut corners. Rosalie wasn’t sure if that was a comfort or a concern. But before she could worry herself too much, there was a soft knock on the door.

“Um. Come in?” She called nervously. The door was pushed open from outside and a rather pretty woman with blonde hair and blue eyes stepped in, dressed in neutral grey scrubs and sensible shoes. Rosalie recognized her right away and blinked in alarm.

“Hello, Rosalie, my name is Mary.” The woman said cheerfully, but not overly so, just enough to put Rosalie at ease if she could. “How are you?” 

“Er. Confused.” Might as well be honest. None of what had happened in the past nine hours made _any _sense to her.

“Why?”

“Well, um.” She gestured at the room they were in. “How _safe _am I? With someone like Jim Moriarty?”

“Safer than anywhere else in London.” She got a kind smile that set her a bit on edge, “Don’t worry about your brothers, they won’t find out about this if you don’t want them to.”

“Yeah, I’d…rather they didn’t know I’ve been kidnapped by Jim Moriarty, I don’t think they’d like that very much.” She sniffed, pulling her knees to her chest and folding her arms around them. “I wasn’t expecting to meet him, but he’s…nicer than I was expecting him to be.”

“You’re important, but you’re no pawn.” Mary came to her side and took her hand, “Can you sit upright, please?”

“S-sorry. I’m just…”

“Nervous? That’s perfectly alright.” Mary waited as she unfolded. She smelled nice, like lemon and mint, with something musky underneath. It was … calming.

Mary quickly and efficiently took Rosalie’s vitals, marking them higher than the norm, even for Rosalie. Especially for Rosalie. She wasn’t stressed right now, not like she had been earlier, why was her blood-pressure so high? And was she seriously running a fever of 42°C? What was going _on_? Once that business was taken care of, and a note had been made of all of Rosalie’s presenting vitals, Mary straightened and indicated a stack of linens on the bed that Rosalie had seen when she came in.

“Before the doctor sees to you, you need to change into the gown and drape. That means everything you’re wearing needs to come off.”

“Okay.”

“You haven’t showered in the past twenty-four hours?”

“Um. No, ma’am.” She shook her head. “Not that you’re very likely to _find _anything.”

“It never hurts to look, does it? I’ll just step out, prop the door when you’re ready.”

“Okay.” She waited until Mary was gone and quickly got out of her clothes, changing into the gown and drapes. One she wrapped around her waist, the other she wrapped around her shoulders like a blanket.

  
Once she was “dressed”, she propped the door open and hopped up on the exam bed, kicking her feet nervously and waiting for Mary and the doctor to come in. There was a brisk knock and Mary pushed the door open, holding it for the doctor Jim had talked into making a private house-call. As soon as she saw who it was, Rosalie almost broke down.

“John!”

“Mary, the door.” Her brother’s … something looked at the nurse before he came to where Rosalie sat on the bed. “What _happened _out there, Rosie?”

“Didn’t he tell you?”

“He said you’d been assaulted by a couple of wanna-be gangsters, but you handled yourself pretty well and walked away from it.” John took her hand in his and studied the bruises from Orlando. “These are not from that encounter, are they?”

“No, those are from my foster-brother, Orlando.”

“Bastard.” John’s grip tightened a bit, but he let go when she made a soft noise. “I’m sorry, Rosie.”

“It’s … not okay, but you didn’t … ”

“Rosie, no one else will _ever _hurt you, I promise.” He reached up and touched her hair, “Between your idiot brothers once they get their heads on right, and Jim, good luck to anyone who thinks you’re an easy target.”

“Don’t tell them about this? Please, John?”

“What part of it?” He looked up at her, his eyes some shade of grey. “Your afternoon with Jim Moriarty or the abuse you’ve suffered at the hands of your foster-brother?”

“Well, honestly, I’d rather they didn’t know about any of it, but that’s asking for too much.” She made a face.

“Then I won’t say anything,” John said quietly. “Now, let’s see what’s to be seen.”

“Don’t be surprised if you don’t find anything.” She muttered, more or less falling backwards on the bed. Mary and John both helped her lay back comfortably, and John squeezed her ankle before getting to work.

It was humiliating, invasive, and absolutely necessary. Thankfully, John knew his business and was quick but thorough about it. And he _did _find something. A very important, potentially devastating something that explained just about _everything_ about the way Rosalie had been behaving lately.

“Well, at least we have a motive for those morons trying to attack you.” He pushed back from the bed after finishing the exam and looked at her.

“What, besides a tourist in a strange city by herself and an easy target?”

“Yes, besides that.” John smiled as she sat up with help from Mary, bracing her with one hand on her left ankle. “It would also prove your bastard foster-brother very, _very _wrong about you.”

“What part?”

“Jim told me, Rosie.” Blue eyes hardened into steel, his grip tightened just a fraction. “He told me what that _beatha ìosal_ called you.”

“Oh.”

“No one, ever, deserves to be called that. Especially not you.”

“But he’s _right_, John!”

“Actually, he’s _not_. You weren’t “lucky” like the rest of them, Presenting at 13 or 14, and when you never showed any signs of Presentation as you got older, he saw an easy target.” John’s stern, calm tone of voice coupled with his scent, which she hadn’t really _noticed _before now, were keeping Rosalie relaxed. He smelled like Chamomile tea and petrichor, and a bit of gun-cleaning oil. She thought she smelled sand, too, but she wasn’t really sure.

“Nulls are rare and shunned when they do reveal themselves.” John continued, his hand resting on her wrist in a neutral, comforting grip.

“Most of the Nulls I knew just said they were Betas and no one ever questioned them.” She sniffled. She _could _have gotten away with that, but she hated the dishonesty. If she wasn’t a Beta, she didn’t want to pretend to be one. 

“That’s very common with Nulls, and usually there’s very little biological difference between a Null and a Beta,” Mary said calmly.

“But if I’m _not _a Zer – ” She trailed off at the stern look John gave her. “Null. If I’m not a Null or a Beta, then … _what_?”

“You, my dear, are an Omega.”

“Almost as bad as being a Null where that prick Garza is concerned.” She muttered.

“I’ll wait for his records to come through, let someone else do the hunting and hard work,” John patted her on the knee, “But I’m one of the first people in line to take it out of that little bully’s sorry hide for what he did to you.”

“Thanks, John.”

“We’ll step out and let you get dressed if you’re up to it.” His smile was a bit crooked.

“Is that why everything I own doesn’t seem to fit right and my clothes itch?”

“One of the downsides of Heat, I’m afraid.”

“Well, I’m _not _walking around here naked.” Rosalie wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think anyone needs that.” John and Mary looked at each other and chuckled, leaving her to get dressed again. Well, that explained everything. But not the way her brothers had treated her.

Once she was decent again, she left the small room. There was no sign of John and Mary, or Seb, or anyone else. Instead of looking for them right away, Rosalie retreated to her suite and changed her clothes. She took a shower, too, which helped a little bit, and got dressed again in an exercise bra and skort with no underwear but a liner for protection. It was less than she wanted to be wearing, less than she felt comfortable wearing, but the maximum she could get away with during her very first Heat. Then she followed her heightened sense of smell, which had always been rather exceptional, to the library. As soon as she showed herself, and she’d be an idiot if they didn’t know she was coming before she appeared, John was at her side and leading her to a seat on a small couch, pushing a glass of water into her hands.

“Drink all of that.”

“Why?”

“Because keeping yourself properly hydrated during your Heat is one of the most important things right now.”

“Oh.” She took a sip of water. “So…what now?”

“You can stay here until your Heat passes, this might actually be the safest place _for _you right now,” Seb said, leaning forward with his hands between his knees. “Or you can return to London with Doctor Watson and Miss Morstan.”

“But where would I live? Where would I stay?” She frowned. “I do _not _want anything to do with my brothers, especially not right now.”

“We thought you might say that.” John sat next to her and put a hand on her knee, making sure it was okay to touch her by making eye contact. She nodded.

“So what? I’m going to stay _here _for a week?”

“It may not last that long. It’s different with everyone, including Nulls and Betas and those of the other Dynamics.”

“Like me?”

“Yes.” John nodded. Rosalie sighed and looked at the floor between her feet.

“John?”

“Hmm?”

“Did my Heat start because of … um … ” She trailed off, unwilling to speak of her rape again.

“It might have, or it might have started regardless of what he did to you,” John said calmly, squeezing her leg a bit.

“But I don’t want you to worry about Orlando Garza anymore. He can’t hurt you here. He hardly knows where you are or how to find you if he did.”

“Not to mention, he’d have a hell of a time trying to get close to you in the first place,” Seb muttered. “Nobody, ‘specially not an Omega, deserves to be treated like that.”

“It’s not that I was treated badly,” she leaned her head against John’s shoulder, using his closeness and scent to keep herself from lashing out or crying. “It’s just that no one who mattered ever _knew_.”

“Why didn’t they? Wasn’t there someone you could talk to? Someone you could tell?”

“He threatened to kill me if I said anything.” Rosalie closed her eyes. “I’m not stupid.”

“Of course you aren’t, sweetie.” That was Mary, who sat nearby but not quite as close as John.

“Rosalie?”

“What?”

“What do _you _want to do?” That was Jim, the first he’d spoken since she came down.

“What do you mean?”

“This is your Heat. Your body, your choice what you do with it.”

“Oh.” She sighed. “But, I don’t … ”

“You don’t know how to _make _your own choices. You’ve never been allowed to.”

“Sort of?”

“Can I choose _for _you?”

“Uh.” She frowned. Yes, she trusted Jim as much as she could to leave her in peace while she was a guest of his home, but did she trust him _that _much?

“It’s okay, Rosie.” John squeezed her hand gently, “He won’t lead you wrong.”

“But … ”

“Rosalie, I mean you absolutely _no _harm, now or ever.” Jim said quietly, “You are not a pawn to be used by anyone, especially not the likes of your brothers.”

“I thought using people as pawns was your job?”

“When it suits my purpose. I have no reason to use you like that. You need my _help_, exploiting you would be a betrayal of any trust you might have in me.”

“Then what can I do? What should I do?”

“Stay here.” Jim was on his feet, but he stayed where he was. “Stay in my house as long as you require a safe-haven. No one will bother you, ever, you will not hear from or see me if you do not wish.”

“It’s _your _house, though.”

“And you are my guest,” Jim said sternly, but gently. “I may not respect your brothers, dear one, but you are special.”

She _knew _she was safe in Jim’s house, but how would she get through her Heat without intervention from a Helper? An Alpha. Or a Beta, even? She knew enough to know that an Omega going through Heat alone was an absolutely fucking miserable experience, but she didn’t have anyone to help her through it. At least, no one she _trusted _enough to ask.

“Rosalie, would you feel better if I stayed?” John asked, as if reading her thoughts. She looked at him, puzzled. He squeezed her shoulder, smiling with just a bare hint of teeth.

“Mary and I are more than happy to stay with you. If you’d like us to.”

“But what about Sherlock? Isn’t he going to notice you’re gone for a week?”

“All he knows is that I was called away on a private house-call. If I returned to London and packed a week’s worth of things, he wouldn’t think anything of it.”

“You’ve helped other patients through Heats before, haven’t you?”

“Friends, more than patients. I would be more than happy to help you, however you need me.”

“Oh. Okay.” She sniffed and picked up the new scents she hadn’t really noticed before. There was one Beta, another Omega, and two Alphas in the library with her.

“What is it, Rosie?”

“Just … picking out the scent-markers.” She tilted her head.

“Scent-markers?”

“I couldn’t tell you who was who, but it’s … nice.” Rosie looked at John, “Can you leave something of yours behind when you go back to London?”

“Like what?”

“Just something that … smells like you.”

“Nesting behaviour.” Jim murmured. “Let’s get her back upstairs.”

“Alright. Rosie, up you go, girl.” John nudged and prodded until she got up again. Jim sent Seb to another part of the house to get something and the three of them got her upstairs again to her suite. Extra pillows and blankets had been brought up, stacked near the bed until she decided what to do with them, and she started building a nest.

John gave her the vest he’d worn under his button-down, promising to bring her something else when he came back, and she received scent-articles from the other three as well. Jim and Seb also gave her things that smelled like them, and Mary promised her something upon their return from London. Sometimes a nesting Omega only kept things that smelled like their Alpha, but Rosalie didn’t have an Alpha of her own. Not yet. For now, she would make do with things that smelled like the people she was staying with, the people taking care of her.

By the time John and Mary returned from London two and a half hours after leaving Jim Moriarty’s house in Oxshott, Rosalie was settled into her room and had completed her first nest. It was more or less just a pile of blankets and pillows interspersed with various scent-articles here and there. John asked if she wanted to lay down a scent-blocker or deterrent to keep the household Alphas out of her room, and she accepted the offer. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Seb or John, but she didn’t trust them to be in control enough while she was going through her first Heat to refrain from attacking her.

So, with her preparations complete, Rosalie settled in and waited for her Heat to get properly underway. Her nest had been built, a deterrent laid down to keep Seb and John at bay, and rations of food and water for at least a week had been delivered, there was nothing left to do now but wait. And yet, there was some unnamed concern that kept nagging at her, a repetitive “what-if” that went round and round her head. She showed all the signs of her first Heat, she had practically Presented, but something was wrong. Rosalie didn’t know _what _was wrong and wasn’t certain she wanted to know.

Rosalie hadn’t seen a doctor in almost a year until John had come down to Oxshott, so really it could be any number of things. But she suspected a doctor as skilled as John Watson, never mind an Alpha, would know if this was a False Heat. She wasn’t sure what she would do if it turned out she really _was _a Null. But the signals she was getting from her body said that wasn’t true, and her behaviour over the past week or so was far more consistent with a Delayed Presentation.

_Please, please don’t let John be wrong about this. Don’t let Orlando be _right_. _She thought as she fell asleep after restless pacing for most of the afternoon.

It was two days before Rosalie made up her mind. She _should _be in feverish agony by now, non-verbal, delirious, slick and sweat drenching her skin and clothes. But she wasn’t. She was … _normal_. Getting dressed in a pair of pyjama bottoms and a camisole, she unlocked the door of her bedroom and poked her head out. A couple of Jim’s people patrolled the hallways, but none of them seemed to notice her. Bracing herself, she stepped out of her room and carefully closed the door behind her. Using her sense of smell, she found her way to the room kept by John. She might as well get this awkward bit behind them. He was in his room, thankfully, and she raised her hand to knock. She had to knock twice before he answered, and when he did, it was obvious she had woken him up.

“Rosie?” He blinked at her, eyes bleary and bloodshot as he rubbed the sleep out of them.

“S-sorry.” She whispered, looking at her watch. No wonder, it was barely seven in the morning!

“I didn’t mean to … um … ”

“Rosie, what’s wrong?” John asked softly, his voice hoarse with sleep. “You shouldn’t be out here.”

“I know, it’s just … um … I think I missed the start of my Heat.”

“What?”

“I missed the start of my Heat.” She didn’t like repeating herself. “It should have started two days ago, but something’s wrong.”

“Fuck. Are you serious?”

“Sorry.” She ducked her head. “I know it’s bad news.”

“Shit. Give me a minute.” John looked both ways down the hall. “Do you remember the room I saw you two days ago?”

“Yeah?”

“Get back there immediately and wait for me. I’ll be right up.”

“Okay. I’m sorry, John, I really am. I thought … ”

“Stop it, Rosie.” He squeezed her wrist, “Don’t get ahead of yourself. We’ll figure out what this is the proper way.”

“Really?”

“I’m not a doctor for nothing, sweetheart. Go on and wait for me.” He smiled at her and waited until she was out of sight to close his door again.

She hurried back to the small spare room, which was still set up as an exam room, and quickly undressed. She was sitting on the exam-bed in gown and drape when John arrived. He sent her off to get a urine sample, and she sat to wait for that result. She also took the chance to get dressed again when John told her she was allowed to. John came back quickly enough, Mary in tow, and she appreciated the Beta nurse’s presence.

“Well?” She asked quietly.

“Well, there’s good news and bad news.”

“What’s the difference?” Rosalie inquired. John smiled a bit, that was her Holmesian nature showing.

“The pregnancy test came back positive, _but_ your HCG levels are far lower than expected.” John looked up from the file in his hand to make eye-contact with her. “This would have been far less recent than twenty-four hours before you arrived in London.”

“Shit.”

“Do you have any idea what the date of conception _might _be?”

“Um.” She worried her lower lip between her teeth, trying to think that far back. Twenty-four hours before she’d arrived in London had been the most recent incident, but not the _only _one.

“Rosie?”

“Five weeks.” She kept her head down. “Five weeks ago.”

“October 13th?”

“Yeah.”

“That would be five weeks, for sure.” Mary frowned, “But we wouldn’t be able to tell until the six-week mark.”

“I’m not imagining this, am I?” Rosalie asked softly.

“You are not imagining this. I promise.” John took her hand in his and squeezed, “And you are _not _a Null. You may not have experienced a proper Heat, but I will be damned if you haven’t Presented.”

“Omega?”

“Omega.” He smiled, “It’s going to be alright, Rosie, I promise.”

“I wish I believed you.”

“I swear on my ancestors and my medical degree that you are _not _a Null.” John handed her a pocket-handkerchief that smelled distinctly like him and she held it to her face.

“You don’t act like a Null, and you sure don’t _smell _like one.”

“What do Nulls smell like? I’ve never really noticed.”

“Salt. Or ozone.” Mary provided, “And you do _not _smell like either of those things.”

“I can’t tell what I do smell like anyway, I’ve never bothered.”

“Like most Omegas, you smell sweeter,” John said calmly. “Yours, in particular, is noticeable.”

“Like what?” She wasn’t sure what he would tell her, but it couldn’t be that bad.

“Cinnamon and cloves, and honey.” His eyes were a neutral, calm blue today, but he was clearly amused by something. “I think it must be a family thing because I’ll be damned if both of your moron brothers don’t smell like honey.”

“You think so?”

“It’s not uncommon for family packs to have a common scent between them.”

“That’s … interesting.” Rosalie filed that information away for later. She would have to remember that because she honestly couldn’t have said what her brothers smelled like. If anything. She hadn’t spent enough time with them to really pay proper attention. Hopefully, she might have a chance in the future. There were some fences needing mending with those two idiots, and she was willing to make the effort. Later, though.

* * *

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The translation of the Gaelic spoken by John:  
beatha ìosal = lowlife


	6. No Guarantees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosalie returns to London, an encounter with Mycroft is had, and she seeks out medical advice for her uncertain health-status.

* * *

* * *

Rosalie stayed a week in Jim Moriarty’s Oxshott compound, the length of a regular Heat, biding her time and trying to plan out the next step. In the end, she returned to London with John and Mary. Jim told her to stay in touch and if she ever needed a safe place to go or someone to talk to, he was only a phone call away. She didn’t anticipate needing that kind of connection, but it was nice to have. When they got home to Baker Street, Sherlock was _not _home, she honestly didn’t know or care where he was. Taking advantage of the quiet, Rosalie went straight to bed to make up for a few lost hours. Early the next morning, she got up, took a hot shower and got dressed in clean clothes.

Among the many things Jim had done for her while she was his somewhat unwilling guest, he had completely replenished her entire wardrobe and she had all-new clothes. She had carried some of them back from Oxshott, the rest would be shipped back to London once she had decided where she was going to live. For now, she would stay on at Baker Street, but she didn’t plan on making it her permanent residence in London. At least, not right away. She didn’t feel comfortable in Baker Street, she didn’t feel welcome.

But she would worry about residency later, right now she had other concerns. And once she was dressed, wearing a pair of jeans and a crop-top, she grabbed socks and her trusty duty-boots and ran downstairs to the 221B sitting-room. John and Mary were both awake, John worked on another blog-entry and Mary was busy with something in the kitchen. No sign of Sherlock. Again. A quick check showed a pair of gun-cleaning kits and two dismantled pistols on the kitchen table. One was John’s trusty SIG-Sauer P226, an Army-issued L105A1 that he shouldn’t have at all. The other was an American-model P228 M11, which Rosalie knew was carried by the US Air Force, Army, and NCIS agents. What was Mary doing with one?

Sitting across the table from Mary, who looked up and made brief eye-contact before going back to her task, Rosalie pulled on her boots and tightened the laces.

“Those are A.T.A.C. 2.0 duty-boots,” Mary said calmly. “Commonly worn by public-safety officers and first responders.”

“Yep.”

“How did you get a pair?”

“Birthday present three years ago. I grew up in law-enforcement families.”

“Hmm. Explains some of how you took out four of Moriarty’s idiots by yourself looking none the worse for wear and they looked like someone had come after them with a billy-club and a pair of knuckle-dusters.”

“A bit.” Rosalie braced her feet up on the table to finish tying her boots. No one in this house would care, considering what the table was usually used for.

“Boots on the table, Grayson?” There was no heat in Mary’s voice, and she was grinning despite the scolding. “Where are your manners? Were you raised in a barn?”

“Actually, you know what?” Rosalie smirked. “I _was _raised in a barn!”

“You were?” That got John’s attention and he turned from his laptop.

“Family estate down in … Ripley, I think it was.” She finished tying her boots and leaned back in the chair. “Spent the first three years of my life in that house, grew up with horses and dogs.”

“I’ll be damned.” John chuckled as he came into the kitchen to get something. “That wasn’t Musgrave Hall, by any chance?”

“Might’ve been. I don’t really remember much.” Rosalie shrugged, “I just remember this great big stone house, with horses, and dogs.”

“Musgrave Hall was destroyed when Sherlock was seven-years-old. Meriwether was born when Sherlock eighteen.”The sound of her brother Mycroft’s voice was unexpected and unwelcome. They hadn’t heard any footsteps and it was pretty stupid to try sneaking up on the likes of John Watson and Mary Morstan.

“Oh, what are _you _doing here?” Rosalie snarled, “And why do you keep calling me Meriwether? That’s not my name.”

“I heard you had returned to London and came to see if you were alright.” Her eldest brother stood in the Baker Street sitting-room in a three-piece suit tailored to precise measurements, leaning on a brolly, studying his hands.

“Mycroft.” John’s voice held a warning to be heeded and Rosalie’s Omega instincts almost brought her to her knees. She wasn’t the one he was angry with, but that didn’t stop her from resisting the urge to kneel.

“Am I not allowed to inquire after the well-being of my sole surviving sister, Doctor Watson?”

“After the way you treated her last week? No, you absolutely are not.” John said harshly, standing between Rosalie and Mycroft, an unnecessary but touching gesture. “And she’s _fine_, by the way.”

“Is she, though?”

“Yes, I am. I’m more than fine, actually. ” Rosalie spoke up, staying behind the stocky, loyal Alpha, “No thanks to _you_.”

“You were missing for a week.” And there it was. “Where were you?”

“I found somewhere safe to stay in Oxshott.” She said bluntly. “Mycroft, what are you doing here?”

“Making sure you’re safe.”

“You have no say in where I go, what I do, or how I spend any of my time.” She narrowed her eyes and squared her shoulders, “I am not beholden to your wishes or whims, and I swear to Christ if you ever use Alpha-Command on me again without my consent, I will make it look like a complete accident.”

“You Presented and passed your first Heat while you were in Oxshott if my intel is any good.” She would be damned if he didn’t audibly sniff the air. “Omega, if I’m not far mistaken?”

“Don’t sound so fucking _surprised_!” Rosalie snapped, “Disappointed in your Omega sister, Mycroft Holmes?”

“Rosalie, stop,” John said quietly, no weight in his voice, reaching back with one hand to touch her wrist. “Calm down.”

“Feisty for an Omega, aren’t you?”

“Oh, fuck off, Mycroft!” She snarled. “What am I to you? A burden? Another weak link in the fractured family chain? Someone else for you to boss around and belittle because you’re an Alpha? And God forbid someone like me is capable of looking after myself without your help?”

“**Rosalie**,” John repeated her name and something tingled across her skin. Was that ... Alpha-Command? From John Watson? She clenched her teeth and bared them at her eldest brother.

“You had your chance to reach out to me, to make yourself a part of my life, Mycroft. But you missed that chance and threw away your redemption-shot when you decided to treat this whole thing as a fucking _game_.” She said harshly, “I am _not _a pawn, I am not some random helpless Omega, and I refuse to be treated like I don’t matter! If I want to be treated like shit, I’ll go back to Phoenix and roll over for my foster-brother! I’d rather spend the rest of my _life _being raped by him than stand here and let you treat me like this!”

The silence that fell in the wake of her rant was deafening, and there was a slightly sour smell to the air. Ignoring the two Alphas in the house, she seemed to be rather good at that, she went upstairs long enough to retrieve her phone and wallet and grabbed a light coat. Storming back downstairs, she stopped by B long enough to let John and Mary know she was leaving the house.

“I’m out, I’ve got my phone if _you _need anything.”

“Be safe out there, Rosie.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me. Worry about those four morons who thought a lone, foreign Omega was an easy target last week.” She bared her teeth in a grimace, “If I see hide or hair of that gang, their guts are my bootlaces and I’m taking the ringleader’s testicles for dice.”

“With their employer’s blessing, I bet.” John chuckled, “Be in touch, Rosie, if you need anything.”

“I should be back in a few hours. You know how to find me.”

“Yep.” He just watched from the top of the stairs as she went down, taking the stairs two at a time.

“Bye, Mrs Hudson!” She called towards 221A, “Sorry about the ruckus!”

“Oh, do be careful out there, dear!” Her brother’s landlady came out of her flat and followed Rosalie to the door. “Plenty of unruly types who might take advantage of a pretty Omega like you!”

“I’ll be alright, Mrs Hudson, it’s not me you need to worry about,” Rosalie promised as she pocketed the key John had given her while they were still in Oxshott. “I can handle myself.”

“Good luck, dear!” Mrs Hudson waved before closing the door of the house.

Rosalie tucked her earbuds in and picked out a playlist, heading for Baker Street Station as she looked up nearby reproductive health clinics. There was one attached to Saint Mary’s Hospital, and she decided that was as good as anywhere else. Catching the Bakerloo Line from Baker Street, she made her way to Saint Mary’s Hospital and the Jefferiss Wing Walk In Sexual Health Clinic.

The clinic, when she got there, was pretty busy for a Tuesday morning, but she’d seen worse. Finding her way to the proper reception desk by following foot-print shaped stickers on the floor, she waited in a short queue and looked around the waiting area. Nothing really that interesting, a few couples in for various reasons, a few family-groups, packs, and several loners like herself.

“Next please!” One of the receptionists barked. Rosalie traded her phone for her wallet and stepped up to the desk.

“How can I help you?” The woman said gruffly, looking up at Rosalie briefly over the top of her monitor. The woman’s scent was musty, unpleasant, and Rosalie wasn’t sure if she was wearing neutralizer cologne or if it was just the way she smelled normally, but she didn’t seem very friendly. Alpha?

“I need to see someone about possible pregnancy?”

“Oh, another Omega?”

“Yeah?” Why did _that _matter? 

“Did your Alpha come with you?”

“Excuse me?”

“I said, did your _Alpha _come with you this morning?”

“I don’t _have _an Alpha, and that shouldn’t matter anyway.” She narrowed her eyes, “Unless the laws changed in the last four months and an Omega needs permission from an Alpha to seek medical care?”

“Well, in that case.” The woman did something on her computer and handed Rosalie a tablet, “Fill out all of those forms. And I’m going to need a form of identification, a health insurance card, and payment of £24.43 is due.”

“I have my driver’s license, but I don’t have insurance.”

“Oh, you’re not from around here, then?”

“I came from the United States last week to visit family, of course I don’t have an insurance card.” Why did _any _of that matter? Rosalie was about to turn around and find somewhere else to go, she had better things to do with her time, and she was tired of people treating her like she was less-than because of her Dynamic.

“Then I’m afraid that’s going to cost you £81.44 for this morning’s visit.” The receptionist looked up at her, “I need your license and form of payment.”

“Are you serious! That’s triple the cost! I’m not … ”

“Is there a problem here?” A voice behind her interrupted the stand-off and Rosalie stiffened. Taking a deep breath, she was able to identify the interloper by his scent. Chamomile tea, petrichor, gun-cleaning oil, and desert. Not just sand, _desert_. John Watson. Had he followed her here?

“John.” She turned to face her brother’s Alpha partner. Part of her was absolutely thrilled to see him.

“Are you alright, Rosie?” He looked her over carefully.

“I’m fine, sir. But I need to see _someone _about missing my Heat last week.” She glanced sideways as she said this. Right on cue, the receptionist’s head came up sharply. Mentioning a missed Heat usually got people to pay attention.

“Did you say you missed your Heat last week?”

“I said I needed to be seen for a possible pregnancy.”

“But you missed your Heat?”

“I missed my _first _Heat if that makes any difference.”

“Oh. You should have said something!” The receptionist looked personally offended. Rosalie bit her tongue and resisted the urge to lunge across the desk and throttle the woman. Before she could act on that urge, John reached over and took her license from her, handing it across the desk to the receptionist along with two more cards.

“I believe you’ll find everything is in order, Miss Brooker.” He said with that edge to his voice.

“Er, yes, sir.” The receptionist said with a croak. She ran Rosalie’s cards, or rather Rosalie’s license and the cards John had given her, and returned everything with a receipt, which Rosalie signed when he slid the paper across to her. A copy of the receipt was theirs for records.

“Do you have a preference for male or female doctor?” The woman asked, looking briefly at them.

“No. I just need to be seen by someone. I’ve been seen once, but I would really like a second opinion.”

“Of course. Just take a seat and fill out that paperwork. Someone will call you back shortly.”

“Thank you, Miss Brooker,” John said in that tone of voice that said he was only being nice because he had to be. Turning to Rosalie next, John held out the tablet.

“Come along, Rosalie, I’ll sit with you until you’re called back.”

“Thank you.” She took the tablet and went to find somewhere to sit down. The first thing John did was give her a slightly-damp handkerchief that smelled very much like him.

“Thanks,” Rosalie whispered, holding the cloth to her face before she got to work with the tablet. She may be out of her Heat, but John’s Alpha-Scent still had a very predictable and very soothing effect on Rosalie.

She was still filling out the paperwork when a nurse came out into the waiting area and looked at a file in his hands before looking at the crowd of waiting patients. He was about John’s age

“Rosalie?” He had a nice voice that carried well. “Rosalie Grayson?”

“That’s you, Rosie,” John whispered as she got to her feet. 

“My name is Elias.” The nurse double-checked his chart as Rosalie reached him. “Are you Rosalie?”

“Yeah.”

“Your Alpha is welcome to come with you if you want him in the room.” The nurse said in a friendly tone, looking at John, who had stayed behind.

“Oh, he’s not my Alpha, he’s just keeping me company.” She hated correcting people like that, but she had to say something. “Can he still come back?”

“Oh, sure! I’m so sorry, that was rude of me to assume.” The nurse just smiled and beckoned to John, who was already on his way to join them. “Well, if you two will just follow me this way, we’ll get your vitals and weight-check out of the way!”

In a small cubicle, Rosalie’s weight, height, and vitals were recorded and the nurse gave her a small sterile plastic cup before pointing the way to the bathrooms.

“We’ll be in Room 6 when you’re done, love!” The nurse said, “It’ll be the blue door!”

“Okay. Thanks.” Rosalie took the cup and headed for the bathroom. Getting the urine-sample out of the way was rather simple, and she made sure to wash her hands after. With that taken care of, she made her way to the indicated exam-room where she found John and the nurse waiting for her.

“Doctor Hanson will be in shortly to talk to you, Miss Grayson.” Elias said after getting her presenting symptoms and reason for visiting, indicating a stack of linens on the bed, “In the meantime, you’ll need to get out of everything you’re wearing and put on the gown and drape.”

“Okay.” Rosalie wasn’t looking forward to this visit, but there was nothing for it. She had to make sure she wasn’t pregnant because of Orlando’s repeated assaults. Rape. It was _rape_, not just assault. Elias stepped out to let her change and John turned his back to give her some privacy.

She made quick work of changing out of her clothes and into the familiar gown and drape, and John propped the door when she was ready. She finished some more of the paperwork while they waited for the doctor. She was able to finish all of it before they were interrupted by a quiet, firm knock on the door. The door opened and Elias returned, the doctor who would be seeing Rosalie coming in first. John, of course, was on his feet in no time. Rosalie stayed put.

“Captain Watson, good to see you!” The doctor, a very outgoing Alpha from … somewhere in Scotland going by that accent, held out one hand to John, a big smile on his face. “Thought that was you they were going on about out there!”

“Rob, it’s been an age.” A handshake turned into a hug and Rosalie wondered how they knew each other. Army service, most likely, considering Doctor Hanson called John “Captain Watson” and not “Doctor Watson”. Doctor Hanson turned to Rosalie next and smiled.

“You must be Rosalie.”

“Yes, sir.”

“She yours, Cap?”

“No, I’m just keeping her company and making sure people around her treat her right.” John gave Rosalie a searching look and she nodded. He wanted to stand closer, and she was going to let him. He wasn’t her Alpha, she may never _have _an Alpha at this rate, but he was definitely a good friend and as good as Pack. And he had a personal interest in her wellbeing.

“Always said you were the best of us, Cap.” Doctor Hanson didn’t seem surprised or bothered by John admitting that he wasn’t Rosalie’s Alpha. He just nodded grimly and looked at Rosalie next.

“Well, let’s see about you then, missy. You put down on your paperwork that you think you might be pregnant?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I skipped my Heat last week. It was supposed to be my first Heat, and it just … ” She trailed off with a vague hand-gesture.

“That would do it. But you’ve Presented in the meantime?”

“I didn’t know it was possible to Present but not experience a Heat.” She shrugged, “But what do I know?”

“Don’t be like that, Rosie. You are not by _any _means stupid.” John scolded, taking her hand as they told her to lay down.

“Well, your pregnancy screen did come back positive, but the HCG levels were far lower than they should be, even for six weeks.”

“They were low last week, too, when I got a look at her.” John admitted, “If we’re _lucky_, this is pseudocyesis.”

“Just pseudocyesis,” Rosalie muttered. “Yeah, right. That’d be too easy, and Orlando would get off easy.”

“Who’s Orlando?” Doctor Hanson asked curiously. “Your Alpha?”

“No, he’s … ” Rosalie grimaced when he told her to bear down. “I don’t _have _an Alpha, and really, I’m … okay with that.”

“Well, the painful bit is done, and everything seems normal.” Doctor Hanson pushed back from the bed and stripped off his gloves, going to wash his hands and get a new pair of gloves before finishing up the exam. “Let’s see if you’ve any pups.”

“Oh, I hope not,” Rosalie whispered, closing her eyes.

“It’s going to be alright, Rosie.” John took her hand in both of his and squeezed gently. “Just calm down, alright?” She just nodded and they waited for Elias to come back with the ultrasound machine.

While he was gone, she heard John and Doctor Hanson talking in quiet, grim voices. Doctor Hanson was asking about Rosalie’s history, but John wasn’t going to speak for her.

“It’s not my place to speak for Rosalie Grayson, Rob. She’s practically family to me, but I’m not her Alpha and as much as I know, it’s her history. Not mine.”

“Family?”

“Her brother is my Null partner, Sherlock Holmes,” John said softly.

“Oh my god.” Hanson let out a sharp breath. “Do _they _know about this?”

“I think they do, but she’s definitely old enough not to need their consent for anything important like this.”

“Christ, I almost hope for her sake it’s really just pseudocyesis, then. Poor thing.” She could hear the regret in Hanson’s voice, the tinge of pity, but it didn’t annoy her as much. She was in a very unenviable position right now. Pity was absolutely an acceptable reaction from an outsider.

When Elias returned with the ultrasound machine, Doctor Hanson was quick but thorough about the scan.

“Well, I have good news and bad news.” He said after a few tense minutes.

“What’s the good news?” Rosalie asked hesitantly.

“There are no pups.” He turned the screen to show them that there was, in fact, nothing there. No sac, no embryos, no placenta, nothing.

“So, does that mean this is just a false alarm and it _is _just pseudocyesis?”

“Yes, it is. That’s the good news.”

“Thank Christ.” She looked at John, who nodded. “I can’t imagine trying to explain that to my brothers!”

“So, what’s the bad news, then, Rob?” John inquired.

“There are only two reliable treatments to treat pseudocyesis.” Hanson finished cleaning up and switched off the machine, pushing it to one side. “But I’ll let you get back into your clothes before we talk about your options, Rosalie. We’ll just step out for a minute, is that alright?”

“Yeah. Um. Thanks, Doctor Hanson.” She couldn’t smile at Hanson, despite her utter relief at getting the news she had waited a week to hear.

“Of course, Rosalie. John, why don’t you and I step out?”

“Sure.” John nodded and looked at Rosalie, “I’ll just be right outside, love.”

“Thanks, John.”

“We’ll get through this, Rosie, it’ll turn out alright in the end.” He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead, “Prop the door when you’re ready, alright?” Rosalie just nodded and waited until the door had closed before she dared to sit up.

As quickly as she had undressed earlier, she discarded the gown and drape and got dressed again. By the time she was ready, Rosalie was almost in tears. This would be the first time she’d spoken to anyone else about her rape and the fact that she really only had one choice regarding treating the pseudocyesis. Opening the door, she retreated to the exam bed and sat down on it, folding her legs under her. John and Doctor Hanson came back, but she didn’t see Elias. That was okay, the fewer people knew the better.

“Rosalie? Are you okay, sweetie?” Doctor Hanson asked, concerned at the sight of her nearly in tears. Rosalie shook her head and covered her face. John was at her side in a heartbeat and hugging her tightly.

“Breathe, Rosalie. Breathe for me, honey.” He soothed, rocking her as she tried to breathe deep. “I’m right here, I promise. Just breathe, relax, and talk to us. Can you do that for me, love?”

“I’m … so sorry.” She whispered. “No one is ever just … _nice _to me without wanting something from me.”

“What happened, Rosalie?” Doctor Hanson was behind John, standing close enough to let her know he was nearby but not intruding on her comfort-zone. Taking a deep breath, she realized that Doctor Hanson was also an Alpha. He didn’t smell exactly like John, but that was only to be expected. John wiped her face with a tissue and kissed her on the cheek.

“It’s going to be okay, Rosie. Just tell us what you can, alright?”

“Okay.” She didn’t let John pull away from her and sighed, avoiding eye-contact with either of the Alpha doctors. “Okay. Just … give me a minute.”

“When you’re ready, Rosalie,” Hanson said calmly. Rosalie nodded. She knew if she didn’t start talking, she never would, and if she didn’t get this off her chest it would never leave her in peace. Where did she start? At the beginning? Maybe that was best.

“I just … I never really had the kind of family that people like to remember. And I went into the system when I was fifteen after my adopted parents died.”

“You were adopted?”

“Given up when I was … five. I never knew why, I hardly remember my biological family. Certainly not enough to _miss _them as I got older.” She sniffled, “I was adopted fairly quickly by a local family, they lived in … Somerset, I think. but I remember living in London, too. I don't know if I ever actually lived in Somerset, but I did spend time there. Then they moved to the United States when I was ten, and I lived there until this month.”

“You say you “went into the system”.” Doctor Hanson narrowed his eyes as he took diligent notes. “What happened?”

“My adopted parents were killed in a traffic accident two years ago. Dad was a Sherriff’s Deputy for Maricopa County, and my foster worked for the Department, too, so … law enforcement’s kind of in the family.”

“Why were you sent into the fosterage system? Didn’t you have any family?”

“Are you kidding me? The Graysons wanted nothing to _do _with me once Jeremy and Regina were in the ground.” Rosalie huffed, hugging her knees, “Someone wanted rid of me so badly they went to the trouble of recovering my old adoption records just to prove, beyond a reasonable doubt, that I was not blood to _anyone _in the family.”

“Jesus.”

“Oh, it gets worse.” She rubbed her forehead against her knuckles, “After I went into the system once a custody-judge decided there was no point in emancipating me, I had to wait six months in a halfway house before I was placed with the Linker family in a transition home.”

“Which is the family that you lived with until recently?”

“Yeah. For a while, I’d say … a year? It was fine. The Linkers _always_ treated me like family, I think it helps that Mark and Jeremy were friends and coworkers before the Grayson’s died in 2013.”

“But? Something happened?”

“One of the other fosters, Orlando Garza, he had something against me. I don’t have a clue what his problem was, but we never got along.”

“Did he ever _hurt _you, Rosalie?”

“Whenever he thought he could get away with it.” She raised her head and looked at Doctor Hanson. “But it only got _really _bad in the last six months.”

“You put down a history of physical and sexual assault, including rape, on your paperwork.” Doctor Hanson looked up from his notes and made deliberate eye-contact with her. “But there was no evidence of rape during our exam today.”

“I’ll send you the visit-notes from my exam, Rob.” John said quietly, arms folded across his chest, “I wrote everything down.”

“Right that. So, you missed your first Heat, despite Presentation as a … Omega?”

“Yeah.”

“And that’s why you thought you might be pregnant?”

“Yes.”

“Repeated incidents of rape is nothing to ignore. I take it you never had a chance to see a doctor about that?”

“No. Orlando threatened to kill me if I said a word about it. I’m not stupid.”

“I can’t imagine Mark Linker would be very pleased to know that one of the minors in his care was so violent.” Doctor Hanson shook his head.

“Forget about the Linkers!” Rosalie snapped, rubbed her eyes with her sleeve. What about my biological family?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean the Holmes’s. The family that gave me up when I was three, for whatever fucking reason Mycroft had!” Rosalie felt an ache in her jaw and tried not to clench her teeth so hard. “And then they decided to treat this like a _game _when I bothered to make an effort to reach out!”

“Well, I can’t speak to your brothers, except to say that their behaviour is despicable and tactless.” Doctor Hanson finished taking notes and lifted his biro, looking over what he’d written. “But I _do _have some good news.”

“I could use some good news.”

“Despite your biological status and Dynamic, you are _not _pregnant.” He looked at her. “There are only two real options available to you to hard-reset your body, but I doubt anyone is at _all _interested in you having any contact with your foster-brother.”

“No thanks.”

“But you _are _aware of the effects of the hormones will have on your body?”

“Yeah. I took every Sexuality and Dynamics class mandated by the Department of Education, I know what Cliasanzocin does.” She sniffled and looked at the Alpha doctors, who shared a startled look of their own.

“What?”

“Most people don’t call it that.” 

“I guess it shouldn’t surprise me that you know the scientific name for the most common hormonal drug available to every Dynamic.” John chuckled and looked at Doctor Hanson. “What do you think, Rob? You good with writing her a scrip for Androletra?”

“Sure, I don’t mind.” Doctor Hanson nodded, tucking the biro into the file. “It’s not like she actually _needs _an Alpha’s permission to take it.”

“And even if she did, I’d be happy to put my name on that consent-form,” John said firmly.

“Alright. Well, give me a few minutes to get your discharge papers sorted and put that order for Androletra through.”

“Um, you’re not obligated to disclose any of the information you received during my visit to anyone, are you?”

“Patient-doctor confidentiality is a thing, my dear. And not even your meddling big brother Mycroft could force my hand.” He squeezed her hand reassuringly. “What happened to you is your business, and neither Doctor Watson nor myself will ever violate your privacy.”

“Thanks. Because I know how … _pushy _my brothers can be. And how _sneaky_.”

“Well, I’ll step out for a minute and be back when I have your papers in order.” Doctor Hanson gave her hand another squeeze and left her alone with John, who hopped up on the exam bed to sit next to her after getting a paper towel wet with cold water so she could wash her face a bit.

“Don’t worry, Rosie, they won’t find out unless you tell them,” John said calmly, putting an arm around her shoulders after she had used the towel. She had to believe them, but she knew that if her brothers wanted information, nothing of consequence could stand in their way.

“Never mind I all but told Mycroft that I had _been _raped in the past before I stormed out of Baker Street.” She leaned against the stocky, faithful Alpha, glad to have at least one person who didn’t treat her like she didn’t matter. Well, that wasn’t fair, John wasn’t the only person in her life who treated her well, but definitely one of a very few.

Doctor Hanson came back fifteen minutes later with her discharge papers, a scrip for Androletra, and a copy of her file including all of the notes he had taken. Her entire history was there, and it was weird to see it all in black-and-white. He had done some fancy work with a computer and gotten a copy of the notes from John’s exam last week as well, just so she had a complete record. She and John both signed all of the proper forms, including the consent form for the Androletra prescription, and Doctor Hanson walked them out.

“It was delightful to meet you, Rosalie,” Doctor Hanson held out one hand to Rosalie, “I hope to see you again in happier circumstances.”

“Yeah, me too.” Rosalie shook the Alpha’s hand, “Thanks, Doctor Hanson.” While Doctor Hanson went back into the treatment areas, Rosalie and John returned to the reception desk. The receptionist who helped them was not the same one who had given Rosalie so much trouble earlier, and when she asked if Rosalie needed to make a follow-up appointment, she shook her head.

“Not right now, I think I’m okay for now.”

“Alright, dear! Well, it looks like you’re all set, so you are free to go!” The woman, an Omega like herself judging by her somewhat-neutralized scent, smiled up at her, “Have a good day!”

“Thanks.” Rosalie turned from the desk with John and checked her watch. Barely ten o’clock in the morning. Ugh. Well, at least she had gotten definitive answers. She was _not _pregnant because of her foster-brother’s non-consensual endeavours. One bit of good news, even if nothing else in her life seemed to be going quite right.

* * *

* * *


	7. Confrontation/Reconciliation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosalie has yet another encounter with her brothers and, again, sets off on her own. Help comes from a slightly unexpected source and she takes care of a few things before returning to Baker Street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To my readers who have expressed their displeasure with Mycroft (fabricdragon and D), this chapter isn't really going to make you like him more or less, but there's a teensy little glimmer of hope for redemption. Maybe. Possibly. If Rosalie is feeling generous. If.

* * *

* * *

Leaving the clinic, Rosalie felt _much _better about things, but she knew better than to get too comfortable. Sure enough, she saw the black car parked along the kerb outside the clinic and knew. Things were about to get a lot less pleasant.

“He just can’t help himself, can he?” She looked at John.

“Easy, Rosie.” John said quietly. “Just because his car is here doesn’t mean _he _is here.” Rosalie snorted. Sure enough, the driver emerged and darted around to open the back passenger door.

“What were you saying?” She muttered as Mycroft emerged from the car.

“Guess I should know better, huh?”

“Just a bit.” She didn’t move at all from where she and John had stopped, waiting for her brother to make the next move. An apology would be nice, but that was expecting too much.

“Oh, are you _fucking _kidding me!” She hissed when Sherlock appeared out of the car next. “Oh, fuck no! Absolutely fucking _not_!”

“Meriwether, please, don’t act like this,” Mycroft said, trying to be friendly and failing spectacularly.

“Okay, first of all? My name _isn’t _Meriwether!” She spat, “My name is Rosalie! At least have the courtesy to call me by my chosen name!”

“You were born Meriwether Rosalie Lansing Holmes, it _is _your name.”

“I have never in my _life _gone by Meriwether or even answered to it!” She bristled, “And if anyone ever called me Merry, it’s been over a decade!”

“Mycroft, what are you doing here?” John folded his arms across his chest and levelled Mycroft with a stern look. “I _told _you to leave Rosalie alone until she came to you on her own terms.”

“Forgive me, Doctor Watson, but my sister is … ”

“Okay, stop right there!” Rosalie growled, “You, sir, are not family. You do not get to call yourself my family until you decide to _treat _me like family! And I will decide when and if to accept your apology!”

“Apology for what?”

“Sherlock, just don’t,” John warned.

“I know what you want, Mycroft, and you know what? It’s none of your fucking business, but you can’t seem to understand that I _really _don’t want anything to do with you right now and you keep interfering.” She strode up to her Alpha brother and thrust her medical file at him. “I would be an idiot if I thought you were ignorant of what kind of life I had before, but read this if you want to know what I left behind in Phoenix.”

“What is this?”

“Everything you could possibly _want _to know about my recent medical history is in there. That is _my _copy, so if I find out you abused my trust in letting you have it, no amount of begging, sweet-talking, or special connections is going to save your miserable hide. Are we clear?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because you _knew_! I don’t know _how _you knew, or even how long, but you knew!” She snarled. “And you never came forward! Not once! You never even _tried_ to reach out! I found Sherlock before I found you! And that was almost five years ago!”

“You were in _danger_, Rosalie.”

“From whom? Jim Moriarty? Eurus Holmes?” She spat out two names of prominent rivals. One of whom was closer to kin than rival thanks to recent actions undertaken on her behalf.

“How did you … ?”

“How did I know about Eurus Holmes?” Rosalie scoffed. “I was twelve when she found me on the playground with some of my friends. We all got a creepy vibe from her, but we were all cop’s kids and knew what to do when strangers approached us.”

“You screamed.”

“By the time the adults came to get us, she was gone, but we all had seen her, we knew what she looked like. We had everything on her except a name.” She squared her stance and stood up to her brothers. “When she was caught stalking me a week later, they put her in jail for two weeks and handed down a restraining order.”

“Not that it would have done much good.” John mused.

“Well, that flagged the right people and she was extradited to London shortly after. Then she disappeared and I never heard from her or of her again until a few months ago.”

“You certainly did your homework.”

“Of course I did! Whoever was dedicated enough to do that kind of shit had resources!”Rosalie glared at her brothers. “If she’s the reason I was given up, that’s _fine_. Unacceptable, but fine. But that just proves how much of a _coward _you really are, Mycroft.”

“Where are you going, Rosie?” John asked curiously.

“Don’t worry about me, Alpha, I can handle myself.” She turned her back on her brothers, “I’m going back to Baker Street since I don’t actually have anywhere else to stay right now! And I will get there by myself, thank you.”

“You should not be on the streets of London by yourself, Rosalie.” Well, at least Sherlock had the good sense to use her preferred name.

“I said I can handle myself. I beat the shit out of four of Jim Moriarty’s goons last week when they tried to take me right off of Dean Farrar.” Rosalie turned and looked at the three men standing on the footpath by Mycroft’s car. “And I have his express blessing to do the same with anyone else who underestimates my skill and abilities. Trust me, it’s not _me _you should be worried about.” John covered a smile with one hand while her brothers traded a confused, concerned look.

Confident that her point had, at least for the moment, been made, Rosalie set off on her own. She hadn’t gone very far before she noticed a car following her. It wasn’t Mycroft’s car, and it didn’t look much like the car Seb had driven the day she had been introduced to Jim Moriarty. Mycroft kept Rolls Royce and Jaguars, and Seb drove a Jag. The car following her was, if she wasn’t far mistaken, an Aston Martin. An Aston Martin DB5, actually. She didn’t know anyone who owned one of those, so it wasn’t likely anyone she knew. At least, no one she didn’t mind talking to at the moment. But she didn’t get a “danger” vibe from the car following her, for whatever that was worth. Stopping out of the way of pedestrian traffic, she waited to see if the car would stop for her. Sure enough, the Aston slid out of traffic and stopped next to her, the window rolled down enough for her to see the driver.

“Going somewhere, Miss Grayson?”

“Well, speak of the devil!” Rosalie smirked and leaned against the car, “What are you doing in this part of town, Mr Bond?”

“I just happened to be passing through and thought I recognized you.” The double-oh agent smiled, “Can I give you a ride somewhere?”

“Uh, sure.” She wasn’t turning down a free lift from one of the few people in London who had treated her like a normal human being. He unlocked the door and she got in. Once she was in and buckled up, they rejoined traffic.

“So, where can I take you?”

“Um, I need to stop by a pharmacy to get this filled, and then I should probably get back to Baker Street.” She showed him the prescription Doctor Hanson had written for her. He took it and read it before handing it back.

“It’s a shame it’s even necessary, but it’s always your body and your choice.” Bond looked at her, “Are you sure you’re going to be alright at Baker Street?”

“Until I find somewhere else to live? It’s better than hostels or the streets.”

“You don’t deserve to be treated like that by anyone, Rosie, especially not by your own family.”

“I’m used to not having a family, so I don’t know why I’m so surprised the one that gave me up turned out to be so awful,” Rosalie said glumly, putting her feet up on the dash without bothering to consider it might not be proper. She kind of felt bad, it was a really nice car, but she wasn’t in the mood for proper manners at the moment. Bond just looked over at her and smirked, but said nothing. Clearly, he didn’t care enough to scold her for bad manners. 

“Just don’t touch anything,” He cautioned. 

“Like that?” She pointed out a rather conspicuous red button on the shifter. Not that she was going to press any buttons, but this was clearly a thoroughly-outfitted speciality vehicle. Of course it was, it belonged to a bloody double-oh agent. 

“Don’t touch that red button, whatever you do.” Bond smiled.

“Roger that!” Rosalie said cheerfully. “But you don’t care if my feet on up on your dashboard?”

“I’m fairly certain you won’t cause too much damage to the car doing that.” He gave her a careful sideways study.

“You obviously don’t know me very well,” Rosalie sniffed sardonically. All that got out of the double-oh Alpha was a smirk and a chuckle, no further comment.

On the way back to Baker Street, Bond stopped off at Woods Chemist and she filled the prescription for Androletra. The pharmacist who filled it for her read the instructions on the scrip and looked at her curiously.

“You do know, miss, that you can still take a non-prescription EHC if you’d like to?”

“Believe me, I would happily take it if I was able to.” Rosalie shook her head. “But I think Androletra is my only option right now.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, it’s been almost a week and a half since my last sexual encounter and six since the one that made the Androletra scrip necessary.” She looked over her shoulder and gave the small queue behind her a rueful smile. “The Levonelle One-Step is only good for seventy-two hours post, and the EllaOne must be taken no later than a hundred and twenty hours post. I am well past both of those limits.”

“You paid attention in your Sexuality and Dynamics classes, didn’t you?” The pharmacist smiled as he processed the Androletra scrip.

“Figured it couldn’t hurt any, even if I turned out to be a Null. Which, I wasn’t.”

“Nothing wrong with Nulls, my dear, and certainly nothing wrong with Omegas.” He gave her a stern glance over the top of his half-moon glasses and did something on his computer. He was an Omega like her, she recognized the softer floral/spice notes of an Omega scent. She judged him to be in his seventies or eighties, but he took very good care of himself, he was in far better shape than some people a quarter of his age.

“So, I’m going to say that this pregnancy, which may not be, is nothing you would like to see to term?”

“No. The two doctors I’ve seen have both diagnosed pseudocyesis, and since bonding with the Alpha who did this to me is out of the question, hormonal reset is really my only option.”

“You’re very young for an Omega. But late to Presentation?”

“A week ago, but I missed my Heat and now … ” Rosalie trailed off, indicating the pharmacy.

“No need to explain yourself to me, dear.” That kind, grandfatherly smile again. “I’ve put your order into the system, would you like to stay until it’s been processed or would you like to come back?”

“I’ll come back, I think. I have someone waiting to take me home.”

“Mm. That rather grim-looking Alpha in the dark suit?” A knowing glance over her shoulder and she looked to see that James Bond had come inside and was waiting quietly off to the side of the queue. He wasn’t getting in anyone’s way, but he was making his presence known.

“Er. Yes.” Rosalie looked apologetically at the rest of the patients waiting in line. “I guess he got sick of waiting outside for me. Seems to happen with most of the Alphas I know.”

“Well, you’re a pretty girl, I can’t say I blame any of them!”

“I wouldn’t say I’m especially pretty, and the way people treat me doesn’t say much either.”

“Oh, ignore them! If you find people who treat you like you matter, you don’t have to give anyone else a minute.”

“I have a few of those. Unfortunately, none of them is my biological family.”

“Family doesn’t end or begin with blood, my dear.” He reached across the counter and patted her on the hand. “If you want to step out of line for a moment, I’ll get you an EHC that you can take right now for your own sake and peace of mind.”

“Oh, really? Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure! Go take a seat, love, it shouldn’t be a few minutes!” He just pointed to a couple of seats against the wall where patients could wait for services. Rosalie sighed and headed for one of the empty seats, not missing when Bond quietly took the seat to her left.

“Are you alright, Rosalie?” He asked in a soft, careful voice.

“I’m not used to people being nice to me without wanting something from me.”

“Instinct drives us to be kinder to those in need, no matter our Dynamic.” Bond touched her shoulder. When she didn’t reject him, he ventured a bit further. When rough, calloused fingers landed on the nape of her neck, Rosalie whined and pulled her knees to her chest.

“Is this alright, Rosalie?”

“Yeah.” She put her head down. It was fine. He chuckled and stroked the back of her neck in slow, careful motions. Fifteen minutes passed unnoticed in this fashion, and it was only when she heard her name announced over the paging system that she realized any time had passed at all.

“Pick-up ready for Grayson at the pharmacy. Grayson, your prescriptions are ready at the pharmacy counter.”

“Oh.” Rosalie lifted her head, “That was … fast.”

“Go on, Rosalie, and I’ll get you back to Baker Street.”

“Thanks.” She unfolded from her huddle and got to her feet. When she got to the pharmacy counter after a short wait, the pharmacist smiled and handed over two white paper packets.

“There you are, Miss Grayson!”

“Thanks so much.” She retrieved her wallet. “What’s the damage?”

“£16.37, my dear.”

“That’s it? Jesus, my clinic-visit cost triple that, or more!”

“We do not discriminate here, Miss Grayson. I’m sorry if you were treated that way by someone else.” The pharmacist looked grim as he ran her card. Once the charge had cleared, he gave it back and she signed the receipt. He also gave her instructions on how and when to take the medications, which was very helpful.

“Please come back again, Miss Grayson. Not too soon, of course.”

“I’ll be back sooner than I’d like, I suspect.” She smiled. “Thank you so much for your help.”

“Of course, my dear! Enjoy the rest of your day and the remainder of your stay in London!” He took her hand in his and squeezed firmly.

“You, too.” She turned from the counter and stepped out of line.

“Next, please!” He called up the next patient as Rosalie caught up with Bond.

The drive from the pharmacy to Baker Street went quietly, but Rosalie knew better than to think the quiet would last. So when they got back to Baker Street and found her brother’s car at the kerb, his Beta assistant standing next to it buried in her phone, she wasn’t very surprised or all that upset. Well, no, she was fuming, but she wasn’t surprised.

“Oh, are you fucking serious?”

“Talk to them, Rosalie.” Bond said calmly.

“I _have_! But they keep missing the fucking point!”

“Then ask them if they understand that what they’ve done to you is wrong.”

“You’re talking about two of the most emotionally _clueless _people in the world here!” She spat. “They’re ruthless! Devious, _ignorant_.”

“**Rosalie**.” The now-familiar tingle across her skin was all the warning she needed.

“Yes, Alpha.”

“Hear them out.”

“It’s not going to make a fucking difference, you know.” She shoved the door open, knowing better than to kick it, and got out of the car. “I’m _not_ staying in Baker Street, I _can’t_.”

“No one would ever expect you to stay where you felt unwelcome.” Bond got out on the other side and came around. She followed him to the door, ignoring the curious scrutiny of Mycroft’s assistant.

“Well, well! The prodigal daughter returns!” The woman said in a haughty, sarcastic tone as they passed by. “Too bad I’m gonna miss that face-off!”

“Fuck off, Vanessa.” Rosalie hissed, purposely using the woman’s real name, not whatever alias she had decided to go by this week.

“Ooh, I think you need a muzzle for your Omega, Mr Bond!”

“She is not my Omega, Miss Lundström, so my control over her is far less than you imagine.” Bond opened the door of the house and stood aside to let Rosalie in first. She did not miss the slightly puzzled expression on Vanessa Lundström’s face and wondered why people just automatically assumed that any Alpha she happened to be with was _her _Alpha? She didn’t have an Alpha and wasn’t very interested in bothering with getting one!

“She’s a perfect match for Mycroft, maybe _that’s _why she stays with him!” Rosalie muttered.

“Hmm?”

“Because no one else with any good sense can stand to be around her for more than three minutes!”

“You never liked her, did you?” Bond said quietly as they climbed the seventeen stairs up to 221B.

“No! She’s arrogant and self-centred! They all are!” Rosalie spat.

Reaching the top of the stairs, she saw the door propped open. It didn’t mean anything, she didn’t care who was in that sitting-room or what business had them at Baker Street. Shoving the door open when she reached it, she stepped into the sitting-room without really looking at anyone. She was going to get a straight answer out of her brothers if it was the last goddamn thing she did.

“I am _not _interested in being in the same house with either of you, let alone the same fucking city,” She said, settling at last on her eldest brother. “and I’m not really interested in what you have to say, but if you want to explain yourselves, then you’d better start talking.”

“Meriwether.” There it was. Again. Why couldn’t he be bothered to call her by her chosen name? Was it really _that _hard for him to respect a simple wish?

“Stop _calling _me that! That’s not my name! It’s on a piece of paper, that’s it!” She snapped. “My name, for the _last _time, is Rosalie!” Shoving her way past Mycroft, she headed for the kitchen. At the very least she wanted to take the EHC the pharmacist had given her, maybe the first dose of the Androletra.

“What are you doing in there?” John asked as she got a glass of milk after making sure it hadn’t gone off.

“Taking my meds is what, Doctor Watson. Your idea, remember?”

“Oh, you did get the scrip filled, then?”

“Yes, I did.” She swallowed the Androletra first. “Got a question for you.”

“Ask away.”

“Can Androletra be taken at the same time as Neuset?”

“Yes, it can.” He came into the kitchen, “How did you get hold of that EHC?”

“The pharmacist over at Woods Chemist gave me a scrip for it.”

“Hmm. Most pharmacists won’t dispense it without a doctor’s order.”

“Should I take it?” She handed him the little package, a disgustingly bright shade of blue and pink and green. He studied the insert carefully, reading over the tiny print with quick, sharp eyes.

“Well, I can’t see how it would do any harm.” John smiled and broke the packaging open for her before handing it over. “The Androletra’s sort of an all-in-one, but if you want a bit of extra peace of mind, then Neuset’s your best bet.”

“Both doses?”

“Both doses. One today, one tomorrow. I’d take it with your first daily of Androletra like you did today.”

“Just so I don’t forget.” She set a timer for eight hours on her phone and drank the rest of the milk with the first dose of Neuset. She had four doses of Androletra and two of Neuset, it wouldn’t be that hard to remember to take the medications.

After rinsing the glass out in the sink and putting it aside for later, she went back out to the sitting-room. She looked at Mycroft, daring him to call her Meriwether again.

“Well? Start talking.” She insisted when he remained silent. “You have my attention for five minutes, but I’m kicking you out of here if you start making excuses or lying.”

“How would I even begin to explain this?”

“Try starting at the beginning. Not when I was born, but when you _somehow _convinced our parents to practically give me away!”

“There is one thing you must understand, it was entirely unsafe for you to remain in the family at the time.”

“I was _five_, Mycroft! Five years old! And you know something? The Graysons adopted me right away and they loved me. They never treated me differently because I wasn’t their born child.” She narrowed her eyes. “The rest of their family obviously didn’t feel the same way, or I wouldn’t have spent two fucking years in the American fosterage system, but Jeremy and Regina _loved _me. The only real family I had for ten years _died _in 2013!”

“What do you want to know, then?”

“I want to know _why_. _Why_ was I given up and cut off from the family I had known for the first five years of my life?” She stared her eldest brother down, ignoring everyone else in the room. “Was it because of her? Were you afraid she would find me, somehow, and hurt me?”

“Eurus was … beyond our control. Beyond our influence. She was on a completely different level from anyone else in the world. She was also insanely jealous.”

“Insanely jealous.”

“Prohibitively, insanely jealous. If she felt that someone was in her way, she would do whatever necessary to remove them.”

“Like she did with Victor Trevor,” Rosalie remembered hearing about that mess, the anguish Sherlock had suffered when he realized that his entire childhood from the age of seven forward into adulthood was a carefully constructed and maintained _lie_. She was having a very unpleasant moment of déjà vu, and she didn’t like what she was beginning to understand.

“Rosalie?” Someone in the room spoke her name, one of the Alphas going by the tingle across her skin.

“You are a _truly _despicable human being, Mycroft Holmes.” She said quietly, so quietly it was almost a whisper. “What you did to Sherlock, you did to me. And you were never sorry for it either time.” She raised her head and looked her eldest brother dead in the eye. “You. Are not my brother.”

“**Rosalie**.” The tingle sharpened, but she shrugged it off. They hadn’t gone full-Alpha yet and she had to make her point.

“You can apologize and excuse all you want, Mycroft, but nothing will _ever _change the childhood I lost because you panicked.” She said calmly. “You know, your little trick backfired?”

“Yes. You … said something back at St Mary's.”

“I’m _not _stupid. I hope to Christ she’s dead now. For my sake, and everyone else’s.” Rosalie sniffled and squared her shoulders. “If that bitch is still alive … ”

“Maureen Eurus Andresta Holmes is dead.” Bond spoke up then. “She was … eliminated this past May, on the 5th.”

“It wasn’t _just _you who was in danger, Rosalie,” Mycroft said carefully.

“We were _all _in danger, you moron!” She hissed. “Because you thought it was okay to shove a certified psychopath into a glass-walled isolation cell and leave her unsupervised!”

“I underestimated her capabilities, and I paid, dearly, for my blunder.” He finally raised his head and looked at her. “I cannot demand your forgiveness, but my grief is genuine. I am sorry, Rosalie. I am so, so sorry.” And there it was, the three magic words: “I am sorry”.

It was silent in the sitting-room following Mycroft’s apology, almost deadly still. Rosalie was thinking things over. Eurus was dead, apparently, she didn’t think Jim Moriarty was going to be much of a threat to her family in the future, and Mycroft had explained himself (a bit poorly) and apologized. It was really all she could ask him for, ask any of them for.

“I lost one family, in 2013.” She finally said, looking at Mycroft. “I’ll thank you to keep the one I still have from falling apart.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that as mad as I am, rightfully, I don’t have any reason to keep holding a grudge. You ruined not just _my _childhood, but Sherlock’s, because you thought you knew better.” She didn’t miss the way he flinched. “But you apologized. Maybe not to Sherlock, but you apologized to me.” 

“What will you do now, then, Rosalie?” John asked carefully.

“I guess I’ll stay on Baker Street until things clear up on my end.” She leaned against the back of John’s chair and rubbed her forehead. “I’m not interested in trying to find somewhere else to live right now. But I _do _have to find a permanent residence in London.”

“Are you interested at all in staying on Baker Street permanently?”

“Not ... really. I mean, I packed out a bedroom and a storage unit's worth of belongings before I left Phoenix, all of _that _has gone into storage state-side in London by now. And, well, I ... ” She trailed off, remembering Jäger and Madeline.

“What is it, Rosalie?”

“I brought over my pets. Jäger, and Maddie, they both ... came with me.” And she had _completely _forgotten about them in the chaos of the last week and a half. John and Mary had retrieved her luggage from the hostel while she had been in Oxshott, and all of that had been moved to Baker Street.

It was quiet for a while until Mycroft spoke up again.

“Well, I think it’s time for me to take my leave.” He looked at Rosalie, “If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to reach out. I will make myself available as necessary.”

“Thank you.”

“Good day to you all.” Mycroft looked at the rest of the people in the flat and shrugged into his overcoat. The only sound was the step-tap-step as he went down the stairs, and Rosalie watched from the window as he got into the waiting car and drove away. Before he left, though, he looked back at the windows of Baker Street and Rosalie knew he was looking for her. Then, without further incident, he was gone. Rosalie sighed, hoping she wouldn’t need her brother’s intervention. She wasn’t a minor, she wasn’t helpless, she was just ... conflicted.

“Are you alright, Rosie?” John was at her shoulder, watching with her.

“Right now? No, I’m not. But maybe I will be later.” She looked at her brother’s Alpha partner and smiled. “I think I made my point.”

“You absolutely did. I’m glad you stood up for yourself, but I’m also glad you let Mycroft explain himself.”

“As much as he ever could.” Rosalie turned from the window. “I mean, how do you even begin to try explaining something like that? And have it make any sense at all?”

“If you’re someone like Mycroft? Not very well.” That was Sherlock, who looked sad. “You said you forgave Mycroft, can you forgive me, as well?”

“You’re the only family I have left, Sherlock. You could have handled things far better, but that’s behind us.” She shrugged, “I didn’t come to London just to turn around again and go back to Phoenix at the first sign of dissent.”

“Would you, though?”

“Would I what?”

“Go back to Phoenix?” He tilted his head a bit to one side. “From the way you’ve spoken of what you left behind, I wasn’t under the impression you were in a hurry to return to it.”

“My foster-brother?” Rosalie frowned. “Not really. But Orlando and I never really got along anyway.”

“No one should ever have to put up with that kind of treatment.” Her brother’s expression darkened. “No one, ever. Especially not someone like you.”

“It was exactly why I was abused, because of the way I am.”

“Not anymore. Not as long as we are family.” Sherlock came over and reached out one hand to her. “Are we family?”

“We can be.” Rosalie took her brother’s hand. “But, honestly, Sherlock? I thought after all the crazy of last year and this year, you knew better.”

“I should have. We all should have. But,” he squeezed her hand, “we forgot what was important. In a moment of complete panic, we forgot. I am so sorry we let instinct get the better of us.”

“Instinct is both a blessing and a curse, isn’t it?” Rosalie smiled.

“Tell me about it.” John huffed, rolling his eyes.

“So, forgiven?” Sherlock looked hopeful.

“Just don’t do it again. Don’t be a moron about things.”

“I can’t promise anything, but I will do my best _not _to do it again.” He made a face.

“I know you like doing things your own way, but I like my family in-tact and alive.” She poked Sherlock in the side. “Like I told Mycroft earlier. I lost one family, I’d like to keep the one I still have from falling apart.” 

“Oh, she sure told _you_, didn’t she?” Bond was beaming. “I think we know who rules the castle, eh, Watson?”

“I think we do. Princess rules above the King. Nice work, Rosie.”

“I try.” She looked at her brother, “Keep us in the loop, you leave us out of it and you’ll find yourself in serious hurt. Never mind _me_, I like to know. I can keep a secret to my grave, I have plenty.”

“Smart girl, she is.” Bond chuckled.

“Rosie?” Sherlock spoke her name quietly, not quite making eye contact with her.

“Yes, Sherlock?”

“If I promise to _try _not to be such an arsehole in the future, will you forgive me?” Sherlock looked sad, almost afraid of being rejected out of hand. “Can I have a second chance?”

“Do you promise?”

“Yes.”

“That’s good enough for me!”

“Really?”

“It’s not fair to you, or either of us. Any of us, to hold grudges like that.” She smiled at Sherlock. “Just try.”

“Okay. I can try.”

“That was easy.” Bond murmured as Rosalie and Sherlock hugged. Easy? Easy was relative. But, things could definitely be much worse. The first steps towards reconciliation had been taken, and Rosalie could only hope she wouldn’t regret making the effort.

* * *

* * *


	8. Catch Twenty-Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steps toward reconciliation have been made. Now it's time to get a bit of work done. The Work comes calling by way of a case from Lestrade, and Rosalie gets to do a bit of legwork.

* * *

* * *

After Mycroft departed Baker Street, it was quiet for another few hours. The quiet was only interrupted by the chiming of Sherlock’s phone, which he promptly ignored.

“Got a text.” Rosalie pointed out.

“It’s nothing.”

“Could be important?”

“It’s George.”

“His name is Greg, you idiot.” John said sternly, “You should try harder to use it.”

“It’s not that important.” Sherlock waved off the scolding.

“A phone call's not important?” She raised an eyebrow as her brother’s phone began to ring. It rang out once, was silent, and then began to ring again.

“That’s two phone calls and a text message, I think it’s important.” She said, reaching into the pocket of her brother’s dressing-gown and retrieving his phone.

“Oi! That’s ... !”

“Hush, you.” She held up one hand as she swiped into the call before it rang out again.

_“This is the phone of Sherlock Holmes.” _

“Oh, this should be interesting,” John muttered, sharing an amused look with Bond, who had stayed on Baker Street even when there were certainly other, better things for him to be doing. 

_“Uh, sorry. I was looking for Sherlock, is he around?” _She heard a familiar voice in her ear, slightly muffled and washed-out by background noise. _“This is Greg Lestrade.”_

_“Oh, sure.” _Rosalie grinned and looked at Sherlock. _“He’s right here, Inspector.” _

“It’s for you.” She held out the phone to her brother, who gave her a suspicious look as he took the call.

_“Lestrade? What is it?” _He listened to whatever was being said and gave a response. The conversation that followed was brief, and after hanging up on Lestrade, Sherlock tossed his phone aside.

“What is it, Sherlock?” John called after him as he disappeared towards the back bedroom.

“Homicide over in Canary Wharf! Says it’s at least an 8!”

“I’ll go get a cab, then.” John was already collecting his coat and keys. “Meet you downstairs?”

“Yes! Please, and thank you!” He was already out of sight and she heard him clattering around in the bedroom. “Rosalie, get your coat!”

“Live case?”

“Yes!”

“Am I coming?”

“Yes, you are! You’re coming! You’re one of my most reliable resources and informants.” He appeared in the hallway between the bedroom and the kitchen for a minute, his expression best termed manic. “If you can tell me cause-of-death from photographs, I’d love to see you on a live scene. Come on!”

“Okay, then.” She looked at Bond and Mary, who just looked amused with things. “Guess I’m going on a case.”

“You’ll need this, then.” Mary handed her something, “Be smart with it.”

“Oh.” She looked at the black case, “Okay. Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“I suspect you know exactly what to do with that, Rosalie.” Mary folded her arms as she opened the case. “And if you’re going with Sherlock on a case, it’s never a bad idea to be prepared.” Inside the case was a brand-new Glock 17, two-tone. There were two clips, both loaded, and all of the necessary paperwork for the gun.

“Wow. This is _nice_.” Rosalie took the weapon out of the case and studied it.

“You’ve been handling firearms since you were eight, you know exactly what you’re doing.”

“Yeah. More or less.” She took one of the clips and loaded the magazine. Chambering a round, she kept the gun in “safe” and tucked it into the back of her jeans. A minute later, Sherlock came barging through the sitting-room, grabbed his Belstaff, and was halfway down the stairs in no time at all.

“Rosie! Case on, let’s go!” Sherlock shouted from the bottom of the stairs when she was too slow for his liking. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming! Hold your horses.” She took her coat from Bond. “A dead body isn’t exactly going to get up and walk away before you get there.”

“You’d better go.” Bond said, giving her a shove towards the stairs. She waved over her shoulder and ran down the stairs, taking them two at a time.

“Good luck!” Mary called after her. Leaving the house, she made sure to lock up, even though she could have left that for Bond or Mary to take care of. It was the polite thing to do. The _safe _thing to do. She felt sorry for Mrs Hudson with all the noise her brother made coming and going.

Sherlock and John were waiting outside by a taxi. Once they were all in, Sherlock gave the driver the address of their destination and told him to take the most direct route, they were in a bit of a hurry. It was a quiet, tense drive to Canary Wharf, but it was a productive tension. John was scrolling text-messages on his phone, Sherlock was looking at something on his, and they were working out what they could of the scene before they arrived. Sherlock, knowing it was important to keep Rosalie completely involved in a case like this one, sent her what they had and she joined them in studying crime-scene photos and a text-string between Sherlock, John, and their Met contact, Greg Lestrade. She had met him at least once over Skype, but she didn’t expect him to remember her.

By the time they arrived, she had everything worked out. It was just a question of if she was right or not. One way to find out. She hopped out first, held the door for John and Sherlock, and followed them towards the distant police-line. She didn’t recognize the constable at the line, but that meant they didn’t have to deal with Sally Donovan right away. And that was perfectly fine with Rosalie. Getting onto the scene didn’t take very long and Rosalie looked past her brother at the body laid out on the jetty.

“Oh, I hate being right.”

“No, you don’t. You love being right.”

“I hate being right when it’s someone else’s loved one.” She stayed behind Sherlock. She didn’t have leave to explore the scene yet, though she very desperately wanted to, just to see how right she was about everything.

“John! Sherlock, good of you to come!” A familiar voice boomed. That was Greg Lestrade, and god if he wasn’t more handsome in person than any of his pictures! That was not fair.

“Of course we came!” John grinned at the silver-haired DI, “It would take an act of God for Sherlock to miss a case like this. Plenty interesting is what he told me on the way over.”

“Huh. Well, whatever you’ve got for me, Sherlock.”

“Give me five minutes with the body and I’ll give you everything I know.”

“Fine. Go on.” A resigned sigh. Her brother was a show-off, that was not news to Rosalie. But his estimate of five minutes was far too conservative.

“Five minutes?” She looked at the body, “Give me three and I’ll tell you everything he missed in five.”

“Wait. You brought someone with you?” Oh, Lestrade’s expression was priceless. “Sherlock, what have I told you?”

“Don’t let her age fool you, Inspector.” Sherlock made a motion with one hand and Rosalie saw John set his watch. Nodding, she stepped between them and approached the body carefully.

She hadn’t worked a live scene like this since before Jeremy’s death, but she knew how to behave. She saw a clock in her mind with a three-minute countdown that started as she approached the deceased. Remembering what she’d seen in the images Sherlock had sent her earlier, she compared that to what she saw in person and clues and keywords appeared before her eyes and vanished in quick succession. For three whole minutes, she explored the immediate scene. There was a problem, the deceased had not died in this location, he had died elsewhere and been thrown into the Thames. He had been in the water for quite a while, there wasn’t much in the way of defining features by which to identify the poor sod, but she could work with what she had. Hell, she’d seen bodies chewed on by pumas and coyotes in the desert worse than this bloke, this was easy.

A sharp, strident beep indicated the timer had reached zero, right as the clock in her head hit, and she turned to the cautiously expectant crowd behind her.

“That’s three minutes, Raider.” Sherlock said calmly, gesturing at the body, “What are we up against here?”

“Well, the body’s been in the river for at least a week, maybe two. Water-logging and bloating make the precise TOD hard to pin down, but the cause is pretty obvious if you get past the decay and the bits chewed away by fish and God knows what else in the Thames.” She rubbed her gloved hands together and paced, “I’m used to dealing with dead bodies in the desert, desiccated by the heat and chewed on by pumas and coyotes, skeletal remains if I’m lucky. This is a bit more than skeletal remains, but it’s fucking close.”

“Raider, go.”

“Right.” She turned her back on them and started talking, laying out everything she had from three minutes of in-person study on top of the thirty-minute taxi ride from Baker Street to the scene on the riverbank. When she was done, she looked at Lestrade, ignoring her brother for a minute.

“Oh my god.” He looked up from his notebook, “Sherlock, she’s almost better at this than you are!”

“I should hope she is.”

“One of yours?” Lestrade raised an eyebrow, “Kind of young, isn’t she?”

“Don’t look at him like he’s an idiot, Sherlock. He’s never seen my face besides pictures, if that, and I doubt you ever thought he might like to know my name. Moron.” She scolded her brother when he gave Lestrade a look like he had three heads and was speaking tongues.

“If anyone can not only show me up but do it well and accurately, Rosalie’s the one.” Sherlock amended, hands stuffed into the pockets of his Belstaff.

“Shit! How old is she?”

“Seventeen last Christmas, sir. I’ll be eighteen this one.”

“Damn, can I borrow her for cases?”

“If she’s alright with it.”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind coming to a teenager for help.” She shrugged, “I didn’t get the impression Sherlock was very popular with the rest of your team, I can’t imagine they’d like me any more or less.”

“I don’t care what they think. You just…how did you do that?”

“I know dead bodies.” She smiled, “My old man was a cop back in Phoenix.”

“Hold it, you’re not local?”

“Well, not until recently, I wasn’t.”

“Could’ve fooled me! I thought your accent was a little strange, but it’s damn near spot-on!” Lestrade closed his notebook and looked at the other two, “I’m stealing your seventeen-year-old informant, Sherlock, just try and stop me.”

“Oh, you _do_ want her?”

“Can I have her?”

“She’s all yours, Greg.” John chuckled and came to put an arm around Rosalie’s shoulders, “I’ve never met anyone like her, she knows what’s what and says it as she sees it.”

“Reminds me of someone else.”

“She should,” Sherlock said blandly.

“She should? Why?”

“I’m the little sister nobody talks about anymore.” Rosalie put her hands behind her back and waited for the eureka moment.

“Hang on a mo.” Lestrade had gotten a good look at her and his eyes went wide, “Oh my god, Rosie? Rosalie Holmes?”

“Who said he didn’t know your name?” John murmured.

“Who said he knew I was a Holmes?” She narrowed her eyes at the handsome DCI, “Have we met before, Inspector?”

“Oh my god! You grew up! Oh, hang on!”

“Brace yourself, Rosie.” John murmured, pulling Sherlock aside to get another look at the body and give Rosalie and Lestrade a bit of privacy.

“Yeah, got that.” She cleared her throat and took the enthusiastic hug she got from Lestrade.

“Ugh. Hi, Greg.”

“Oh my god! Rosie! Sweetheart, when did you get back?” He looked her over closely, “Don’t tell me you just got to town, I’ll slap Sherlock for dragging you out on this case!”

“Well … not exactly? I mean, I got back from Oxshott yesterday, but I flew back from the States on the 17th.”

“Shit. No, that’s final. You belong to me. My informant, my resource. If I need you…”

“Just call me. Any time, any reason.”

“Absolutely! Jesus, you grew up pretty! The last I set eyes on you, you were still pretty young.” He shook his head, “You were probably right into high school, maybe fifteen. You were out here for something. Came out with a family friend?”

“That was Brody Hawkins. Dad was with us, but he had to work so Brody took me out to teach me how to drive.” She blinked, “You _remember _that?”

“You showed up at a scene and solved it in five minutes! I thought I was out of my mind.”

“The Reisler burglary? That was easy.”

“For you, it was!”

“Sorry?”

“Nope.” He smirked, “You were a clever six-year-old, damn smart at fifteen, now you’re scarily intelligent and barely out of high school.”

“Graduated a few months ago, actually. Got myself emancipated from the system a week and a half ago, and headed for Merry Olde.” She smiled, “I thought your name sounded familiar, and there was something about your face in pictures I found.”

“Jesus, am I glad to see you again, Rosie.” He hugged her, “You’re back for good?”

“Yep. I’m at Baker Street until further notice, so if you need anything.”

“Just give you a call, or send a text?”

“Yes, sir.” She looked at her brother, “And even if or when I move out of Baker Street, same rules.”

“Roger that.” Lestrade just smiled, “Should’ve known you were a Holmes the minute you opened your mouth and laid it all out for us after only three minutes.”

“Told ya. What Sherlock missed in five, I can give in you three. And the rest of it.”

“Smart kid, Rosie.” Lestrade put an arm around her shoulder and gave her a gentle shake. “Damn smart kid. Glad to have you back, kiddo.”

“It’s nice to be useful.”

“Might want to be careful, though.” He grimaced a bit. “Omega?”

“Yeah, but if you’re worried about unscrupulous Alphas taking advantage, don’t even think about it.” Rosalie sniffed. “I’m on two different hormonal treatments right now, which is going to change my scent for a while.”

“Falsified mating-scent.” He nodded. “You’re taking Androletra?”

“And Neuset.”

“What happened?”

“Long story really short? Positive pregnancy tests on a false alarm.” She shrugged, it wasn’t something she liked talking about.

“But that’s … um, pseudocyesis.”

“That’s _all _it is, luckily.”

“What about the Alpha? Are _they _involved?”

“Nope. Which is just fine, because let me tell you a thing or two about the bastard who thought it was fun to abuse the little Zero.”

“The … _what_?”

“Zero.”

“Who the hell called you a Zero, Rosie?” Lestrade’s voice softened and got deep, and she felt that familiar tingle. Another Alpha? Well, that was just her luck, wasn’t it?

“My foster-brother, Orlando Garza.” She kept an eye on her brother and John. “But get in line for your turn making him sorry, there’s a few people ahead of you.”

“God damn it, Rosalie.”

“There’s five thousand miles between us right now, Lestrade, and plenty of interested parties have been alerted and are very interested in making sure he regrets every single thing he’s ever said or done to me if he shows his face.”

“What’s the radius we’re talking about?”

“Oh, I’d say … five miles? Two if I’m generous. Maybe a couple of feet, if he’s really desperate.”

“For his sake, I hope he’s smarter than that.”

“Join the party, Greg. I know at least three other Alphas who are just itching for Garza to give them an excuse.”

“Is Mycroft one of them?”

“He might be. John’s definitely first in line, and Seb Moran’s right behind _him_, so.”

“How do _you _know Sebastian Moran?”

“Doubt you’d believe me.” She rubbed the side of her nose.

“I think you and I need to talk, Rosalie.”

“Yeah. Sure.” She knew better than to say no to an Alpha like Greg Lestrade. Besides, she kind of preferred it if he heard the story first-hand from her instead of hearing it from someone else.

With their bit done, Lestrade offered to see the three of them to the line. But John and Sherlock wanted to stick around a bit longer, get more time on the scene. Lestrade was fine with that. It would give him the chance to get Rosalie by herself so she could explain a few things to him. And she was happy to, but not with so many people around.

“Just don’t make pests of yourselves. Let me know if Rosie missed any details.” Lestrade shook his head, “I’ve got to get back the office anyway. I’ll get your statements later. You two stay out of trouble.”

“We’ll do our best. Rosalie, stay with Greg until we call.”

“Okay.” Rosalie didn’t particularly care where she was going. New Scotland Yard’s headquarters, most likely. That was fine with her.

“Come on, Rosie.” Lestrade tugged on her sleeve, “You’re with me.”

“After you, Inspector.” She just smiled and let him lead the way away from the scene, past the line, and got into a nice silver BMW.

* * *

It was a quiet drive from the scene to the office, and she filled out a report for Lestrade while he got some work done. While it was just the two of them, Lestrade asked for her whole story, so she told him everything starting with the death of Jeremy and Regina Grayson two years ago and ending with her tenuous reconciliation with her brothers.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Lestrade huffed, running one hand through his hair. “I _knew _they were morons, but I didn’t think it was that bad!”

“They kind of screwed up.”

“Yeah, they did! Mycroft should _know _better!”

“In his defence, it was panic.” Rosalie looked at her notes, she had been helping Lestrade cut down on his workload while she talked.

“That’s not an excuse!”

“And he apologized. Several times.”

“Mycroft Holmes _apologized _to someone?” Lestrade obviously didn’t believe her, but given what she knew of her brothers, she didn’t blame him.

“More than once.” She said without looking up. “And meant it.”

“What did you say to him?”

“Well, I told him that I wasn’t interested in maintaining a grudge.” She added to her notes, seeing something else that got her attention, “And really, he just did the wrong thing.”

“The wrong thing, for the right reasons.”

“It’s possible to do the right thing for the wrong reasons, and the wrong thing for the right reasons.”

“Yeah, I’ll say!” Lestrade shook his head and glanced over at her. “How’s it going over there?”

“This one’s all done.” She closed the file after finishing up what she was writing. “This one was the … grand-nephew. Stood to gain a hefty inheritance, but it was all for nought if Grand Uncle found out about his bad habits and wrote him out of the will.”

“And Grand Uncle found out?”

“Yep.”

“So the bastard offed the old man before he could change the will!” Lestrade scoffed. “God, how original.”

“Yeah, I know.” Rosalie set that file aside and picked up another one. “This one, if I’m not wrong, was the jilted ex-lover who got jealous and decided if she couldn’t have him, no one could have him. Unfortunately, this is also a Dynamic crime.”

“Oh, I hate those. I always hate those.” Lestrade held out one hand. “Let me see it?”

“Here.” She handed it over and let him review the file and the notes Rosalie already had on it, and started on another case.

“Oh, are you fucking kidding me? I thought this one had gone to “Solved”!” Lestrade slapped the file closed. _“She’s_ the one who said “it’s not you, it’s me”, and went searching for greener pastures!”

“But, she didn’t think anyone else would want the Omega she had seen fit to walk out on.” Rosalie glanced up, gesturing with her biro. “So when he found another mate a year after she left him, she got jealous.”

“So much for subtle sabotage, this woman had no tact.” Lestrade handed the file back to her. “Guess I need to reissue warrants for Miss Fagan.”

“Good luck with that. Writing up warrants was never Dad’s favourite part of the job.” Rosalie chewed on the end of her biro. “Serving them wasn’t exactly any sane person’s idea of fun, either, though.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” He muttered as they continued working together.

It was quiet for two hours before John and Sherlock showed up from the scene to file their reports and give Lestrade some updates. They had a name for the suspect, so Lestrade wrote up a couple of warrants and called up his team. Time to go get their man.

“Sorry to bail on you, Rosie.” He looked at Rosalie apologetically as he shrugged into his mack and made sure he had his badge and gun.

“It’s your job. Besides, I took enough of your time.” She smiled when he started patting down various pockets. “Looking for these?”

“What the … where did you get those?” He took the badge and handcuffs she held out.

“Buried under that pile of files on your desk. Not that I’m not pro at stealing these from someone, of course.”

“Yeah, I bet you’re a proper little pickpocket, aren’t you?” Lestrade rolled his eyes and pocketed the items.

“You, hush up.” That last was to Sherlock, who was chuckling at the sight of Rosalie returning Lestrade’s badge to him.

“What?” He looked at Lestrade innocently. “It’s not like _I _stole it, Lestrade.”

“Yeah. _This _time. Wanker.”

“Okay, girls, you’re both pretty.” John scolded. “Come on, Sherlock, let Greg get back to work. Are you coming, Rosie?”

“Sure!” She put on her coat and made sure _she _had everything. “Good luck, Greg!”

“See you ‘round, Rosie.” Greg stopped her long enough to hug her. “Take care out there.”

“I’ll do my best. See you later, Greg.”

“Bye, Rosie.” He walked them down to the street and waited until they were in a taxi and on their way back to Baker Street before he went back inside. Rosalie caught him on his radio, probably giving orders to his team. It wasn’t exactly how she’d imagined spending her afternoon, but she could think of worse things to do with her time. And she was actually quite good at this, so it was nice to be doing something she enjoyed.

* * *

* * *


	9. Dogma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life has calmed down at Baker Street, as much as it ever can. But another case comes in, and things get ... interesting. Rosalie shows off a bit more, proving once again that she really is a Holmes and she can work out the who, when, and how of a crime scene. Even if her methods are a little unorthodox.

* * *

* * *

After making peace with both of her brothers and settling into Baker Street at least until she could find a place of her own, Rosalie was glad when things kind of quieted down. Her chaotic, contentious start had smoothed out a bit, for which she was very grateful. In an effort to help Rosalie settle down, Mrs Hudson had presented her with keys to the refinished basement-flat in 221C so she could have her own space in the house and still be around for her brother and his partners. The threat to her family had been eliminated and she could start with a clean slate in London. If that included moving in with her brother until other arrangements could be made, that was fine.

When Madeline and Jäger were cleared from quarantine, she brought them home to Baker Street. Mrs Hudson didn’t mind them, she’d explained things and shown her landlady pictures of her pets, and it wasn’t unusual to have the pair go missing only to be discovered in Mrs Hudson’s flat. Usually, it was Madeline who went missing, and just as often Rosalie found her sleeping on Mrs Hudson’s couch or even her kitchen table. When Jäger went missing, it was usually when Mrs Hudson was baking or cooking. The fact that her pets were so spoilt by the landlady amused Rosalie to no end and she kept telling Mrs Hudson that it wasn’t necessary to give them treats all the time. Jäger would get fat if they weren’t careful!

“Oh, he’s too skinny as it is!” Mrs Hudson said one afternoon as they had tea in the kitchen of A, poking at Jäger’s ribs in emphasis. “Look at this! Don’t you feed him?”

“I feed him plenty, Mrs Hudson. You’re just a sucker for the sad brown eyes.” Rosalie chuckled and shook her head. “But that’s fine. You get good company and primo security for it.”

“Yes, I do! Did you know, he ran off a street trader the other day?” Mrs Hudson just looked proudly at Jäger, who raised his head.

“Oh, did he?”

“Some slick-looking fellow trying to sell God knows what.” Mrs Hudson waved one hand dismissively. “Well, I can tell you what Jäger thought of _that _nonsense.”

“Did he scare the bloke?”

“Good and proper, he did! Got between me and the door, stuck his head out, and barked until the man went away. I told ‘im not to bother coming back, or next time I’d let the dog out to show him what happened to people not welcome here.”

“Oh, good for you, Jäger!” Rosalie reached under the table and gave her pet a scratch. “You used to scare sense into criminals, now you get to scare sense into street traders and hawkers.”

“Oh, he still gets to scare sense into criminals when your brother takes him along on cases, though.”

“Well, it is the job he was trained for, after all.” She chuckled. “And Madeline just sits and sleeps all day, hunting mice and spiders at night.”

“She’s a cat!” Mrs Hudson scoffed, “She can’t possibly be expected to bother with unnecessary business!”

“And yet, she always seems to be underfoot when you don’t expect it.” Rosalie looked around the kitchen. “Well, it could be worse.”

“Oh, much worse!” Mrs Hudson reached across the table and patted her on the hand. “How are _you _feeling, dear?”

“Fine.” She took a sip of tea. “I mean, as fine as someone like me _can _be.”

“You haven’t had another Heat, then?”

“Mm. Not yet, I haven’t.” She frowned, “But I did finish the regimen Doctor Hanson prescribed for me.”

“That was several weeks ago, wasn’t it?”

“Mhm.” She set her cup down and rubbed the rim of it with one fingertip. “That was a very miserable week if you recall.”

“You locked yourself into the basement and didn’t come out for the whole of it, I remember. John just said to let you be, and you’d come back up when you felt like it.”

“Well, if I never have to do that again, it won’t be soon enough,” Rosalie said grimly. “Nothing is worse than experiencing a False Heat because your body was too stupid to realize it was being tricked the first time and thought it was pregnant.”

“I’m sorry you had to experience that, dear, but you _are _feeling better? You seem a bit ... off.” Mrs Hudson studied her over the rim of her teacup, eyes sharp and observant. Of course, Mrs Hudson had noticed. Over the last few days, Rosalie hadn’t slept well lately and everything seemed kind of distorted. She felt sluggish, feverish, irritable, and there was no clear, obvious cause.

“I’ve been better, and worse. I’m just dreading my regular Heat when it does finally come.”

“You’re a strong girl, Rosie, you’ll be alright.” Mrs Hudson said, squeezing her hand firmly. Rosalie just smiled and silently blessed her Beta landlady for being so kind and taking such good care of them.

They were interrupted by a shout from upstairs and footsteps on the stairs at a run.

“Oh, now what are they up to?”

“Rosie!” Sherlock yelled from the hallway. “Get your coat! Where’s Jäger?”

“Coming, Sherlock!” She called back, “I have Jäger with me!”

“Well, that’s fine! Hurry up, will you?”

“Oh, that boy has no manners at all!” Mrs Hudson rolled her eyes as she collected their teacups and took them over to the sink. “Well, you had better get on, dear, before he comes looking.”

“Thanks, Mrs Hudson. Sorry again about the noise and my brother’s terrible manners.”

“I’m used to it, my dear. Don’t worry about me!” The landlady just smiled and pushed her out of the flat before Sherlock could shout down the rafters.

“Rosalie! Oh, there you are.”

“I said I was coming, you idiot.” Rosalie took her coat from John when she got to the bottom of the stairs leading up to 221B. “What’s on? And why do you need Jäger?”

“Double homicide and potential missing persons. Greg wants us on hand to help.”

“Oh, that’s Jäger’s favourite thing.” Rosalie shrugged into her coat. “Is Mary coming this time?”

“No, she had a shift at the hospital.”

“Solving crime is more fun than saving lives.”

“That’s what I said!” Sherlock looked up from putting on Jäger’s harness as John handed over the rest of Rosalie’s gear.

“She said not to worry.” John helped her with the Glock she had carried for about a month.

“Why not?”

“She said not to worry, because we had one of the best in London with us.”

“Mary was not speaking of me, by the way.” Sherlock got up with the lead in both hands.

“I’m good, but I’m not _that _good.” Rosalie shook her head as she tucked her wallet into her back pocket.

“Oh, yes you are.” Her brother scolded. “Now, come on. We have a missing child to find before it’s too late.”

“Oh, I hate missing children.” Rosalie made a face as she held the front door for them. “It makes me sad.”

“It _is _sad, Rosie.” John squeezed her arm as he locked up once they were all out of the house. “But it’s our job to try and make sure things don’t end badly.”

“I hope it’s not another Dynamic kidnapping.”

“So does everyone else on Lestrade’s team.” Sherlock turned from waving down a passing taxi. “Can you do this, Rosalie? We need you, but if you can’t … ”

“No, I’m … fine. I don’t like it, but I’ll work on this case.” She wrinkled her nose. “Someone has to speak for the victims.”

“If you change your mind, you’re free to step away. None of us will judge you.”

“Thanks, Sherlock.” Rosalie climbed into the cab first and took Jäger’s lead from Sherlock.

As they drove from Baker Street to the scene in Hoxton, Rosalie listened to Sherlock and John discussing the case and what they had on it and reflected. Her brother had moments of sentiment and kindness, and Rosalie was often the focus of those moments. It had barely been a month since she had arrived in London, but Sherlock had changed. At least a little bit. He would ask how her day had been if they had been on different business, he would check on her during the course of any cases they took, and the hours he spent playing the violin and recording music for her were unnumbered. He would give her cases to work on and time her on how long it took her to solve them, giving her advice on how to better her methods and offering tips if she was stuck on something.

Honestly, it wasn’t exactly the way Rosalie had expected things to turn out. But with so few expectations for a positive outcome, she had little to complain about. She had a place to live, more importantly, she had her own space; she had a job she was rather good at, partners to support her; and the makings of a strange sort of family. She still had no Alpha, and no desire to tie herself to someone else like that. That choice was ultimate hers and it was a choice supported by her ... well, they were her Pack. She had John, Sherlock, and Mary, and Mrs Hudson, and she had Greg and James Bond, and Jim Moriarty and Seb Moran. Not a very proper family, but they were all people who cared about her and loved her. And really, that was all Rosalie wanted from any of them.

The scene, when they got to it, was a bustling, subdued place. There were several cars, so the place was washed in blue-and-white light, and ribbons of police-line tape blocked off sections of the street. Uniformed constables kept watch over clustered of curious, goggle-eyed bystanders craning for a glimpse of the action. As they headed for the primary house, an unmarked white van pulled up to the scene and was waved through the tape-lines.

“Is that the coroner’s van?” Rosalie whispered.

“Oh, that’s bad.” John murmured. She leaned her head back and sniffed at the air. There was something sour, an acidic tang to the air. Death had touched another victim. A Dynamic, by the smell. She couldn’t tell from here which Dynamic, but just knowing this _had _been a Dynamic crime made her angry.

“Hey! You guys made it!” Greg’s voice broke across her anger and Rosalie lifted her head. There he was, standing at the front door of the house.

“We came right away, Lestrade.” Sherlock mounted the stairs to the house with Jäger at heel. “I brought Rosalie and Jäger, as requested.”

“Oh, great. Thanks. We need all the extra help we can get, and Jäger has the best nose of any K9 I’ve ever met.” Greg looked grim. “If you guys want to come in, you can come this way.”

“Lead on.” Sherlock gestured for Greg to lead the way for them. Going into the house, Rosalie took in every detail she could see and quickly disseminated and stored the necessary data. There had been violence in this house, great anger. It was obvious someone had broken into the house, a man and a woman were laid on the floor of the entry hallway, shot three times each, and bloody footprints led through the house and up the stairs. Ignoring the pair of corpses, and her partners, Rosalie ran up the stairs.

“Rosalie!”

“They came upstairs for something!” She called back. “I’m fine!”

“**Rosalie!**” She froze mid-step.

“I have my sidearm, Alpha. I am fine.” She looked over her shoulder. “I can handle myself, I promise.” Greg and John just looked at each other.

“Fine. But holler if you need back-up, alright? Don’t play the hero.”

“I won’t. I’ll be careful.” She promised, going up the stairs again, following the trail of bloody footprints.

It seemed that each room of the house had been ransacked, she checked each one for evidence, survivors, or even their suspect. There had been children in this house, at least two. Possibly twins, if the photographs she saw were correct. Very young, not older than five. She felt sick in her heart at the thought of anything happening to the children and searched each room very carefully for any sign of them. She looked for hidden doors and secret hidey-holes, anywhere a child could be concealed in safety. She found nothing in any of the bedrooms, despite locating at least three hides, and there was nothing in the attic. That just left the basement, which was being searched by The Met. Being careful not to disturb evidence and contaminate the scene, Rosalie went back downstairs and headed straight for the basement.

“Any luck?” She inquired as she reached the bottom of the stairs.

“No. Not a damn thing.” Sally Donovan said gruffly. “What are you doing here, Grayson?”

“Lestrade asked for Baker Street and they brought me along. We’ve got Jäger here, too.”

“I don’t think we need _all _of you. We can do our own jobs, you know.”

“No one ever said you couldn’t, Sergeant Donovan.” Rosalie stepped past the fussy Omega Sergeant.

“Oh please!” She scoffed, “The Freak does it all the time!”

“My brother is not a freak, he’s smarter than half the people here.” Rosalie snapped. “Just because he turned you down ten years ago doesn’t give you the right to belittle him because he can do your job in five minutes with less effort. Probably a New Year’s Eve party somewhere in town. You would have been a constable, brand new to Homicide, out to enjoy a night on the town with a few of your pals, and hooked up with Mr Tall, Dark, and Handsome for the midnight kiss.” She gave the woman a brisk once-over.

“You asked him back to yours, he said no thanks. He was soberish, you were smashed, and he was a gentleman unwilling to take advantage of a cute drunk constable on New Year’s Eve. So he took you home, put you to bed, and stayed until you woke up the next morning with a raging hangover.”

“What are you talking about!” Donovan snapped, flustered.

“You don’t remember him taking care of you, you just remember him saying no thanks while you weren’t able to put your head on straight and then leaving as soon as it was safe to do so. That’s a bit petty, don’t you think, Sergeant?” She stepped past Donovan, leaving behind a couple of very confused, uncomfortable Yarders. Rosalie honestly didn’t care, she was too cranky and too busy to bother.

It didn’t take much to find the first hide in the basement, or confirm it was vacant. The second was also empty, and Rosalie wasn’t holding out hope that the third, if there was one, would be occupied. But, under an area-rug in the basement bedroom, she found a hatch. It didn’t look like it had been disturbed, and she looked over her shoulder.

“Donovan!”

“What!”

“Get Lestrade! And my brother! I think I found something!” She turned to the hatch and studied it, figuring out the mechanism. Some fiddling got it open and she carefully heaved it open. The compartment was very dark and shallow, she could hop down unaided. She might need a hand getting out, but that was different.

“Okay. Please, God, don’t let this be a dead end.” She muttered before heaving herself into the hole. Dropping into a crouch, she used her cellphone’s flashlight to illuminate the small, cramped crawlspace.

At first, it looked empty, but a second sweep caught on a bundle in one corner. Crawling on hands and knees, holding her phone between her teeth, Rosalie made her way towards the bundle. She thought she saw movement, and she paused, listening. Besides her own harsh breathing, she heard a soft, distressed noise. Oh, thank god. Dropping the phone, she made her way towards the bundle of material.

“Hey. Are you two okay? Is your sibling here?”

“Are you here to save us?” A small, shaky voice inquired. Rosalie’s heart clenched in her chest and she let out a sharp breath.

“Oh, god, yes. Yes, I’m here to save you!” She touched some solid, small body part and squeezed. Like magic, the bundle unfolded and one of the twins crawled out of the nest of blankets that had protected them this long.

“Oh, baby, come here, sweetie.” Rosalie held out her arms for the child. “I’ve got you, I’ll get you out of here!”

“Is Mummy okay? I heard lots of shouting and noise upstairs, but Mummy and Daddy told us to be quiet.”

“No, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. They’re not going to be able to take care of you anymore.”

“Did Uncle Travis hurt them?”

“Someone hurt them, sweet. But we’ll find the person who did and make sure they don’t hurt anyone else.” She soothed as she made her way back to the hatch with her small, frightened burden.

“Rosie!” Greg shouted, “Where are you!”

“Down here, Greg! I’ve got one of them!”

“Oh thank fucking Christ!” Greg appeared at the hatch, face twisted in grief. Leaning down, he took the twin she had carried out.

“I’ve got ‘er. Is the brother down there, too?”

“Yeah. I’ll go get ‘im.” She went back for the second twin, who said nothing as she carried him to safety.

Once the twins were out of the crawlspace, Rosalie retrieved her phone and let Greg and John pull her out of the hide.

“Are you okay, Rosie?”

“Yeah.” She brushed off her coat and looked around. “I got a name, too.”

“Suspect?”

“Uncle Travis?”

“That means it’s a brother.” John looked at Rosalie. “What do you think happened, Rosalie?”

“I … don’t know. I mean, I have theories. But I need another look at the adults?”

“No problem.” Greg helped her to her feet. “I’ve got to go out and get the twins situated with Child Protection Services, but you can look around upstairs.”

“Thanks, Greg.” She followed him upstairs, carrying one of the twins, and handed her small, frightened burden to the medics on-scene before going back into the house. With Sherlock and John behind her, she studied the evidence before her. She reviewed what she already knew, what she had seen before but not paid much heed to.

“What do you see, Raider?”

“Two adults, mid-thirties. Married, fifteen years or so. Two living pups.” She knelt beside the husband and sniffed.

“Omega male. He’s the one who carried and birthed the twins.” The wife was the Alpha of the pair, which was not at all unusual in the Dynamics.

“They were anticipating the assault, and while they used the locked front door to hinder the intruder, one of them took the children downstairs and concealed them within the crawl-space hide in the basement bedroom. By the time they had situated the children safely, instructing them to remain absolutely silent and still no matter what they heard in the rest of the house, the assailant had made forced-entry.” She looked over at the front door, which stood open and showed clear signs of being forced from outside.

“Shots were fired from a pistol, we should be able to tell what kind of weapon was used from casings or recovered projectiles. The victims were standing in front of the door, judging by the proximity and the number of gunshot wounds they each sustained.” She pointed out the three defects on each of the victims. “Two of the three on the wife were inflicted while standing, the third, the shot that killed her, was fired while she was … on her knees?” Rosalie turned and faced the door, kneeling close to the husband’s body.

“She would have been facing the door, like this, begging for mercy no doubt. And she was killed by a close-range gunshot to the forehead. The killer would have … uh, hang on a second.” She shook her head and got up.

“What’s wrong, Raider?”

“Uh, here, let me … ” She found an empty bit of floor space behind the couple’s bodies and made sure not to disturb any evidence.

“Okay, John, you stand … there …” she pointed to a spot about a foot and a half in front of her, “Sherlock, you’ll be here next to me, face down.”

“What are you doing?”

“Shush.” She waited for the boys to get into position. “Okay. John, get your P226.”

“Okay? Why?”

“Just get it out.” Rosalie knelt next to her brother, waiting for John to retrieve his sidearm. They never travelled without them, it was a matter of habit and just being prepared for whatever a case might bring them.

“Okay, now what?”

“Now, hold it out with your right hand. I know you’re left-handed, but the assailant was right-handed.” She watched him switch hands on the weapon.

“Rosalie, what are you doing?” Greg had come back into the house and stood by, watching them curiously.

“Recreating the scene.” Rosalie said calmly, looking up at John, “John, take another step towards me. He was less than a foot in front of her.”

“Are you sure about this, Raider?”

“Absolutely.” She took a deep breath and crouched over Sherlock, the way Sabrina Mackenzie would have huddled over her husband’s body.

“Now, the shot that killed her was fired at nearly point-blank range. The killer would have had his weapon pressed against her skull.” She pulled John’s hand until the muzzle of the P226 was pressed against her forehead. “Like this.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“She was begging for mercy, begging him to stop, just leave them alone.”

“And he still pulled the trigger on her.” John’s eyes hardened and his finger tightened on the trigger. A loud click echoed in the house. “Bang. You’re dead.” 

“Then the assailant searched the house, walking through the blood of his victims and leaving us a perfect trail of footprints.” Sherlock sat up next to her and looked up at John and Greg. “We need to find Travis, whoever he is.”

“Brother-in-law to one of them,” Greg muttered, looking around as John helped Rosalie to her feet and then offered a hand to Sherlock. “Question is, which one of them?”

“Time to go hunting.” Rosalie looked around. “We have a method, motive, just no suspect.”

“What _was _the motive?” 

“Kidnapping and trafficking of minors is a lucrative and disgusting business.” Sherlock took his coat from the side-table he had left it on when Rosalie had been recreating the last moments of the Mackenzies. “Especially children of Dynamic couples.”

“Even if they haven’t Presented and may never Present?” John raised an eyebrow.

“Yes.”

“That was a big problem in the Four Corners.” Rosalie mused. “Human trafficking of Dynamics was really common.”

“It’s amazing you didn’t become a statistic of the trade, Raider.” Sherlock looked at her, “You are exactly the kind of Dynamic the agents look for.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me one bit if the Graysons tried to sell me off. Unfortunately for them, that didn’t happen.”

“That is despicable,” Greg growled.

“It’s all part and parcel of the trade, Inspector.” Rosalie shrugged into her coat. “See if there’s any family that can take the twins.”

“Yeah. Absolutely.” The Alpha CDI narrowed his eyes. “Thanks for helping out, Rosalie, you really worked your magic with this one.”

“Always glad to help. You know the rules, Inspector.”

“Text or call, any time for any reason. Yeah.”

“See you later, Greg?” She followed the boys to the open front door, avoiding the incoming Coroner’s team.

“Absolutely.” Greg just nodded.

“Come on, Jäger.” Rosalie took Jäger’s lead from Sherlock. “Time to go home.”

Greg walked them to the line and saw them off. As he held the tape for her partners, Rosalie saw Donovan watching and made deliberate eye-contact. Caught staring, Donovan blushed and turned away.

“Ooh, what got into Donovan?” John murmured.

“Not a what, John.” Greg snickered, “That’s a who, son. A very opinionated, very _smart _who.”

“Rosie, what in God’s name did you _say _to her?”

“I basically told her that she’s a hypocrite and hates Sherlock for all of the wrong reasons. She didn’t really like that.” She shrugged, “But what adult does like being told a thing by a teenager?”

“You've got a point there.” John smirked, “Do I want to know what ugly past it is?”

“Nothing ugly about it. I tore apart Sergeant Donovan, having seen her only once and I knew exactly why she hates you, Sherlock.” Rosalie looked at her brother. “That’s on her, not on you. You’re a dick, but you do have manners.”

“Oh, she’s good,” John muttered.

“Sherlock was a gentleman and refused to take advantage, but Donovan only remembers being slighted because he wasn’t interested in anything she couldn’t give clear consent for. And she couldn’t give consent while she was drunk.” Rosalie shrugged.

“You turned down Donovan while she was drunk and she never forgave you.” John whistled softly and patted Sherlock on the shoulder. “That takes balls, son.”

“I took her _home_, stayed with her until she was asleep, and left without saying anything. I never gave her my name, she never gave me hers, and it wasn’t until quite a long while later that either of us had a thing to do with each other again.” Sherlock tilted an eyebrow, “I did not remember her as well as she remembered me, I assume that had _something _to do with her animosity.”

“You _are_ pretty memorable, Sherlock. I’ll give her credit for that.” Greg chuckled. “You lot get on back to Baker Street, I’ll call if anything comes up.”

“Sounds good. See you ‘round, Greg.” Rosalie waved as she followed the boys towards the end of the street. She knew he watched until they were around the corner and out of sight. Their bit was done for the moment, he would call if he needed them. Getting a cab, they returned to Baker Street to regroup.

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	10. Memo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Humans, by their nature, are petty, selfish, and hurtful. This is no secret. But the breadth and depth of these vices can be a little ... alarming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rosalie knows she hasn't seen the worst of the Graysons, but she never imagined they could be THIS petty. Things go from bad to worse, but Greg comes along with a well-timed distraction, and Rosalie takes the chance to get out of the house. But she's not running away from the Holmeses this time.

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Rosalie knew better than to hope for a respite, as bad as she wanted one after working the double-homicide. So, when they got back to Baker Street to find Mycroft’s car parked on the street, none of them were really surprised.

“Oh, what is he doing here?”

“Does he need a good reason?” Sherlock helped her out of the taxi, “He’s an Alpha.”

“That’s not an excuse.” She muttered, “He can’t bother to mind his own business.”

“Well, we’d better see what he wants.” John looked up at the windows of the flat.

Going inside, they made their way up to 221B. As it had the last time Mycroft had visited, the door stood open. Mycroft sat in Sherlock’s chair, which made Sherlock roll his eyes, and Mary was sitting in John’s chair.

“Mary!” Rosalie was surprised to see the kind Beta nurse. Wasn’t she supposed to be at work right now? She hadn’t been able to join them on this latest case because of that, so what was she doing at home?

“Rosie girl.” Mary got up to hug Rosalie. “How did the case turn out? Did you manage to solve it?”

“Yeah, we did. It was kind of hard to work on, though.”

“What was it?” Mary inquired.

“Double homicide, Dynamic couple with adorable twins.”

“Oh, no.”

“But the twins were safe. The parents hid them in a crawl-space in the basement.” Sherlock hung up his coat and took Rosalie’s when she handed it over.

“Do the police have the suspect in custody?” Mycroft inquired.

“Not yet.” Rosalie shook her head. “All we know is it was a brother, and his name is Travis.”

“I’ll get tea on.” John headed for the kitchen. “Mycroft?”

“Yes, please, Doctor Watson.” Mycroft accepted the offer, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

“Your scent is changing, love,” Mary whispered, distracting Rosalie for a minute, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. I’m okay.” She wasn’t fine, but she wasn’t going to worry about whatever this was before she had to. She had a different problem to worry about right now.

“You don’t come by just to visit, Mycroft.” Rosalie looked at her oldest brother, studying the small hints she could read on him. “What are you doing here?”

“Rosalie, sit down please.” Her brother spoke softly and carefully, making very sure not to invoke Alpha-Command. He knew she resented him for making use of it in the past, but there was still some work to be done. Her reconciliation with Sherlock had gone far smoother than her reconciliation with Mycroft, and they had made a tentative truce with each other. Knowing this, Mycroft limited his contact with Baker Street to the bare minimum and called for most of his needs.

Rosalie sat down on the couch, Mary sat down next to her and took her hand. Rosalie looked at the kind Beta and squeezed her hand tightly. Sherlock took John’s chair.

“Well?” She said when it had been quiet for too long. It was serious business, but she wasn’t sure if it involved just her or if it was family-wide. 

“At the risk of furthering your ire, there is something very important you should know.” Mycroft looked at his hands, folded over the handle of his brolly.

“Oh, fantastic.” She sighed, “What is it this time?”

“Nothing involving the drama that has shaken the family recently.” He looked up as John came back in with a tray.

“Not very comforting.” She studied her Alpha brother as she took the cup John offered her. “So, if it’s not family, then what is it?”

“Well, not _our _family, precisely.”

“So what is it?”

“Grounds for denial of emancipation.” And something he really didn’t want to bring up right this minute. Rosalie frowned. That couldn’t be right, her last application had been accepted.

“Judge Lachey accepted my application and dismissed my case before I flew to London. The _day_ I flew to London, in fact.” Rosalie said carefully, feeling a knot of something unpleasant in her gut that had _nothing _to do with hormonal imbalance.

“Yes, I know. I know of the troubles you had with Richard Malcolm and Clary Lachey’s acceptance of your application for emancipation.”

“Judge Malcolm kept denying me emancipation,” she took a sip of tea as John sat down on the other side of her, “but I’m fairly certain he was being paid by the Graysons.”

“He was undoubtedly in their pay, but that is not the issue at hand.”

“Mycroft, just get to the bloody point already?” That was Sherlock, who looked decidedly _bored_. “You obviously have something very important to share with us, so please do stop stalling.”

“Yes, of course. My apologies.” Mycroft cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “I am afraid there was a _very _good reason for the previous denial that was not upheld by the judge who dismissed your case.”

“Which was ... what?” Rosalie asked, not sure if she really wanted to know.

“I managed to get hold of the papers and thought you had better see them.” He held out a file, pretty thick, and waited until she came and took it from him. Whatever was in this file was bad news for Rosalie, but she was _not _going back to Phoenix without a good fucking reason. Unless there was a warrant involved with this latest mess, she was staying in London. If they really wanted her that badly, they could damn well come and get her themselves and she would go peacefully but not quietly.

She had to skim through a few pages of boilerplate and testimony before she came upon the passage in question, and swore she heard a record-scratch in her head.

“Wait a minute.” She blinked at the block of text. “What?”

“I’m ... so sorry, Rosalie.” Well, at least he had stopped calling her Meriwether.

“Um, did ... Judge Lachey know about this prerequisite?” Rosalie looked up at Mycroft.

“It is uncertain, but I suspect she knew and simply did not care to address the issue when she emancipated you in November.”

“When were you going to _tell _me about this?”

“I meant to tell you earlier, but I never had the chance to get you alone long enough to explain myself.” He reached for her but did not make contact, “I am sorry, Rosalie. For this, especially.”

“I knew I hated the Graysons, but I didn’t know I had so much good _reason _to hate them!” She studied the damning lines and debated throwing the lot into the fireplace. “How the fuck am I supposed to work _this _out?”

“What is it, Rosie?”

“I’m not sure how this is even allowed, considering they wanted next to _nothing _to do with me after Jeremy and Regina died, but someone wrote an amendment into my application that I could only be granted emancipation _after _I had ... ugh ... ” She slapped the file closed and threw it down. “I have to get _married_!”

“What!” That was news to Sherlock, who fought John for the file.

“That doesn’t make any sense!” John flipped through the file containing all of her application paperwork after snatching it away from Sherlock. “Did the Graysons have anything to do with your application process?”

“No! All I did was tell them that I was filing for emancipation!” Rosalie was shaking, whether it was emotional or biological she wasn’t sure. “They didn’t seem to care either way!”

“Oh, Rosie.” Mary was there, one hand on her shoulder, “This is awful news.”

“It gets worse, Mary.” Sherlock was reading the file over John’s shoulder. “She has a _month _after emancipation is successfully filed and/or accepted to marry.”

“I was emancipated on November 17th!”

“What’s the date?” Sherlock looked up for a minute.

“The ... it’s the 24th.” Rosalie felt sick to her stomach. “It’s December 24th.”

“As far as I have been made aware, and I did thorough research before I came to Baker Street, no warrants have been issued for your arrest and/or extradition.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“The primary warrants would be on a local level, city or county. Possibly even state level.” Mycroft watched her carefully. “And as I am aware, you had far more friends among the departments than enemies.”

“Would they close ranks for something like this?”

“If Rosie’s half as popular as she seems to be? Absolutely.” Sherlock set the file down. “Mycroft, we can’t let this stand.”

“What _can _we do, then?” Rosalie felt a little sick.

“Find you a mate.”

“I am not signing up to be sold off to some horny old Alpha!” She growled. “And I know that’s exactly what the Graysons want!”

“Is there anything we can do to counter this action, Mycroft?” John looked at Mycroft, who was quiet.

“I will set Q on the trail, I suspect the application has been tampered with.”

“_That _is definitely something they would do.” Rosalie muttered, “I bet I know who it was who did it, too!”

“A younger Grayson, doubtless.” Sherlock’s eyes hardened. “This may not have started as a family crisis, but you are not facing this alone, Rosalie.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.” Rosalie shook her head. “I can’t ask you to intervene for me.”

“If I’m not allowed to go off on cases by myself or keep John out of the loop, then _you _aren’t allowed to submit to the whims of the family who made a greater show of disowning you than we _ever _did.” Sherlock held her by the shoulders, looking her right in the eye. “Trust us, Rosalie. Please.”

“Okay. But what can we do right now?”

“I believe a distraction is called for.” Mycroft was looking out the window, “And one may have just presented itself.” Before any of them could ask what he was talking about, the door slammed downstairs and footsteps were running up the stairs, a hasty “Sorry, Mrs Hudson!” from their visitor. Rosalie had already recognized him by his scent and felt John’s hand tighten on her shoulder.

When Greg Lestrade appeared in the doorway to the sitting-room, he was clearly in a big hurry.

“Sherlock! Sorry, um, are you busy?” He huffed, leaning on the door-frame to catch his breath.

“What is it, Lestrade?”

“We got a name for our suspect in the Mackenzie murders!”

“Who was it?” Rosalie asked. She had been the one to give them the first name of the suspect. “Who’s brother was it?”

“Uh, his. And I think I have a different motive. But I need to question his neighbours and see if I can get any other leads.”

“Why not get warrants for Travis Mackenzie’s murder, Inspector?” Mycroft inquired. “Simplify the course of action?”

“Oh, I _have _warrants, that’s not my problem, Mr Holmes.” Greg turned to Mycroft, “I’m just hoping his neighbours can give me a bit of insight.”

“And you want some extra help street-sounding?” John asked.

“I was kind of hoping I could convince Sherlock to get his Network involved, see if they know anything helpful.”

“Of course.” Sherlock nodded, “But if you want some help right now, take Rosie with you.”

“Are you sure?”

“She’s as good as either of us and much smarter. Not to mention far nicer.”

“I…I guess I could.” Lestrade sighed. “Get your coat, sweetie, we’ve got work to do.” He looked sorry about things, but Rosalie didn’t mind live case-work. Besides, she was more than happy to do whatever it took to get Travis Mackenzie in handcuffs. And it would distract her from her current problem. John handed over her coat and gear and gave her a pocket square to take with her.

“You be careful out there, Rosie.” He whispered as he hugged her. “You’re on the cusp of Heat, love, so keep an eye on yourself.”

“Is _that _what’s wrong with me?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure.”

“Oh, great.” Rosalie sighed. “Maybe I _shouldn’t _go out?”

“Go, it’ll keep your mind off of the curve-ball the Grayson’s threw us.” John gave her a stern look and she felt the tingle across her skin.

“Okay.”

“Greg will keep you perfectly safe.”

“Thanks.” She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. “I really hope I can get back to Baker Street before my Heat starts.”

“You’ll be fine.” John smiled and gave her a push, “Go on.”

“Rosie!” Greg called from the bottom of the stairs. “Come on, kiddo!”

“Coming!” She shrugged into her coat and waved as she headed down the stairs to catch up with Greg. She was on the landing when she thought of something.

“Hey, Greg!” She stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

“Yeah?”

“Do you mind if I bring Jäger? He won’t bother anyone.”

“Sure, might not be a bad idea.” Greg looked at her as he double-checked for his badge. “Ex-police dog? Might be useful.” He shrugged. She nodded and ran back upstairs.

“Meet you at the car!”

“Roger that!”

“Jäger!” She called at the top of the stairs. “Come on, more work to do!” There was a commotion inside and she stood aside as Jäger came tearing out of the flat. She pointed the way and he headed downstairs at a sprint.

“Oi! Ex-police dog for sure!”A scolding from Lestrade, who would have been standing by the stairs, reached them at the top. “What kind of behaviour was _that_, Constable! Bad form!”

“Sorry about that, Greg,” Rosalie called as she grabbed Jäger’s lead and harness.

“Good luck!” John was beaming as she turned and headed back downstairs. She just waved and caught up with Greg by the front door.

“Sorry about Jäger, Greg.”

“He didn’t hurt me, but I wasn’t expecting him to come down the stairs at full sprint like that.” Greg looked at Jäger, who just sat next to him expectantly. “Mind if I handle him?”

“After you.” She shrugged, handing over the gear. “Did you ever work DSU?”

“Long time ago.” He looked up at her from securing the harness, “Best part of my job. Miss doing it, sometimes.”

“Why’d you leave?” She held the door and locked up once he was out.

Rosalie did not recognize the Land Rover parked on the street, silver with the colour-scheme of The Metropolitan Police Service on the sides: a broad red stripe along the length of the body with the blue-and-white logo on the driver and front passenger doors, parallel blue-and-white Battenberg stripes lengthwise, and the red-and-yellow reflective hatch-stripes on the boot.

“Uh, that’s … not your car.” Maybe not, but it was distinctive and obvious and it suited Lestrade.

“It is for now.”

“Where’s the BMW?”

“In for routine maintenance.” Greg shrugged and loaded Jäger into the boot of the Land Rover. “They gave me this for the loaner.”

Rosalie circled the car and saw a yellow vinyl sticker on the back windows and the window on the boot-hatch. A closer inspection showed her that it was a warning sticker that read “Police Dogs: Please Stay Back. Air Conditioned Vehicles. Use Caution.”. That explained the barrier between the back seat and the cargo space. There was another barrier between the front seats and the back seat as well, which effectively made the car a dual-purpose vehicle. Going up to the front, she hopped into the passenger’s seat and buckled up. Greg reached over and tugged on her seatbelt to make sure everything was proper.

“So, how long ago did you leave the DSU?” She looked at Greg as they got underway, returning to the conversation they'd been having when they left the house.

“Well, it was one of the first jobs I worked at The Met.” He switched lanes in traffic when an opening appeared. “It’s where I had my experience, see?”

“How?”

“Used to work Military Working Dogs in Afghanistan back in the Army.” He cast her a sidelong look, “Had a partner named Panda for a couple of years, dog saved my life.”

“I’m sorry. Did Panda die?”

“Took a bullet to keep me alive, went for a Taliban’s throat and took a knife to the ribs and throat before they could fight ‘er off. Sat on me until help came. I patched her up best I could, but I knew, I just…I knew she wouldn’t make it.”

“Jesus, Greg.”

“She stayed alive, long enough to get back to base. The medic who found us thought we were both dead and admitted that he’d never seen anything like it. He…helped me get Panda back to base. Made sure she was comfortable. He told me it would never go away, having that hole in my life, but if I needed a friend to turn to, he was there for me.”

“Wow. That was nice of him.”

“Spent a year with him before my tour of duty was up. I got out when my time was called, went to the MPS after that. I did patrol for a bit, then moved onto DSU and got another partner.”

“Didn’t quite replace Panda, did they?”

“No, but Roscoe did a good job filling a bit of that hole.” He smiled, “What a stubborn piece of work he was, loved him to death.”

“What happened to Roscoe?”

“I moved on to Homicide and Major Crimes, Roscoe got to retire. Last I knew, he was living out his years with another constable’s family. That was a long time ago, so I doubt Roscoe’s still alive, but I remember him fondly. He was smart and damn good at his job.” Greg chuckled, and then sobered a bit.

“No, Roscoe was a good dog, but he wasn’t my last DSU partner.”

“Oh?”

“I went back to DSU after they let me come back to work in 2012, and I got myself into Unit 5 with a partner named Billy.”

“You’re not still with DSU, are you?”

“No, not anymore.” His grip tightened on the wheel, “I’m…on hiatus from the unit but still working for The Met until they get things straightened out.”

“What happened?”

“Billy did something brave and stupid. Saved my life and most of the squad in the process.”

“You must be heartbroken.”

“A little. Losing partners like that never goes away. Jäger kind of reminds me of Billy, actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Don’t know what it is about ‘im, but she reminds me of Billy.”

“Where does DSU get their dogs from?” Rosalie asked carefully.

“We’ve got a breeder in Germany that we get most of our dogs from, we get our GSDs from there. They breed exclusively for police and military.”

“Huh.” She looked over her shoulder at Jäger, who was hardly visible except for his ears as he laid quietly in the back of the car. “Wonder if they’re from the same breeder, then, ‘cause Jäger’s from Germany.”

“He is?”

“Mhm. So was my foster’s other K9, Moy.”

“Which kennel?”

“Um. Beowulf Schutzhund Zwinger. Outside of…”

“Outside of Berlin.” Greg smiled again and looked over at her, “Yeah, that’s the one. They said Billy’s litter had a couple of pups go to Americans.”

“You think Jäger was one of them?”

“The pups were dispatched with names to wherever they were going for training. One of them was a cute little pup named Jäger.”

“Well, that’s him.” Rosalie thumbed at the barrier separating Jäger from the rest of the car. “He’d be happy to work again if you need him for something.”

“Yeah, I know.” Greg just smiled, a bit sadly, “Why do you think I keep asking you to bring him along when you come on cases with Sherlock?”

“He’s yours any time you want or need him, Greg. Just ask nicely.” Rosalie reached over and took the DI’s hand. It was quiet as they made their way to their destination, which was somewhere in Hampstead. The touch-contact with Greg was nice, and it helped Rosalie feel a bit more stable. And right now, she needed stability.

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	11. Perfume of Biology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosalie gets a bit more work done on the Mackenzie case before things go unexpected off-course. But really, she doesn't mind so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EternalSurvivor, this one is ALL for you! This whole pairing is ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT!! And I love you for it. I hope you enjoy this weird little offering.

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When they got to Travis Mackenzie’s neighbourhood, they were smack in the middle of Hampstead. Rosalie got out of the car first and looked around.

“Nice part of town.” She murmured, getting a look at some of the houses.

“Come on, kiddo, we’ve got work to do.” Greg took her by the hand.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea for me to be here?”

“You needed out of the house. Want to talk about it?”

“Um.” Rosalie hesitated, “But we have to … ”

“I can take five minutes to let you talk it out. Come on.”

“Okay.” All she could do was follow the DI who kept her brother out of trouble and in work.

“So, start talking.” He instructed as they walked along the quiet street. “Whatever I walked into at Baker Street was bloody serious. I mean, Mycroft was there. What did _he _want?”

“He had something for me.”

“It couldn’t have been good, John looked pretty upset. And Sherlock, I haven’t seen him like that in a long while.”

“Um, long story short?” She put her hands in the pockets of her coat, leaning her head back to look up at the grey sky. “I think my application was tampered with.”

“What?”

“I re-applied for emancipation a few months before I left Arizona.”

“Yeah, I remember you said something about that.” Greg looked at her as Jäger sniffed around ahead of them. “I thought that was all taken care of? I mean, you probably wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.”

“Not exactly.” Rosalie sighed. “I don’t know how it came to Mycroft’s attention, but somehow he got into my files and found my last application for emancipation.”

“He was probably being himself and making sure he had everything on you there was to be had.”

“Yeah, knowing him.”

“What happened?” Greg tugged on Jäger’s lead as he wandered too far ahead. “You think someone altered your data?”

“There’s an amendment written into it that I’m not allowed to be granted emancipation until I’m married.” Rosalie frowned, “I _know _I didn’t write that into the application, and if Judge Lachey knew about it, she didn’t care enough to enforce it! She wouldn’t have dismissed my case and given me emancipation otherwise!”

“Wait, hold on.” Greg stopped. “Say that again? You can’t be emancipated until you get _married_?”

“Yeah.”

“Bullshit!”

“Mycroft said something about putting Q on the job, but that doesn’t help _me_.”

“Oh, shit, Rosie.” Greg raked one hand through his hair and came to catch up with her. “What was the time-limit?”

“A month past the acceptance of the application. I was emancipated on November 17th.”

“Fucking hell. It’s December 24th! It’s your fucking birthday, Rosie!” Greg looked almost murderous, “This is deliberate! It has to be! Let me talk to my people and see if I can’t get a few of our Digital Forensics guys on it.”

“Would you do that?”

“Yeah. Of course, I would!” He squeezed her shoulder firmly. “As soon as we have the Mackenzie case taken care of, I promise.”

“Okay.” She sighed and looked up, catching sight of a resident coming their way. Time to get to work, then. Rosalie needed the distraction, honestly, so she didn’t really mind.

“Well, I guess we’d better start talking to neighbours. Want to take this one and I’ll go knock on a couple of doors?”

“Sure.” Greg handed her something. “Don’t be afraid to use that. And you’ve got your gear?”

“Handcuffs and sidearm, yes, sir.” She took the leather bi-fold wallet and opened it. Inside was a warrant card and identification card, as well as a badge.

“Is this so I’ll stop stealing yours?” She smiled as she pocketed the badge. Everything had _her _name on it instead of Greg’s, so it was all proper and legitimate.

“My super all but insisted on it after the last time.” Greg rolled his eyes. “At least you gave them back, Sherlock never bothered.”

“Because I have more respect than to steal a police officer’s badge and not give it back.” Rosalie looked over at the curious civilian, who kept on their original track and didn’t really hesitate or deviate. “I’ll let you get on with this one, don’t let Jäger scare them too much.”

“I promise nothing.” Greg waved her off and she went past the resident. Exchanging brief greetings with them, she made her way by herself. As she walked along West Heath Road, hands in her pockets, earbuds in her ears, she kept an eye on the houses and judged if there was anyone home or not.

The first couple of houses she tried got no answer, and she simply moved on until she got an answer. A few were willing to talk, but would rather come to the station, so she gave them a card with Greg’s info on it.

“Come by the Victoria Street offices and ask for Inspector Lestrade.” She told them.

“Thank you, miss.” And that would be the end of it. A few commented on her age, and at least one noticed how close she was to Heat.

“They’re not keeping you on duty this close, are they?”

“No, no. The Met still has rules to follow for Omegas like me.” She promised the concerned elderly Alpha who had inquired.

“Good! A pretty young thing like you has no business being out on the streets of London so close to Heat!” He frowned. “Don’t you have an Alpha, my dear?”

“No, I don’t, Mr Bowden. I wish I did, it would be so much easier.”

“Find someone you trust to see you through it, nothing is worse than being alone for the week.” The Alpha, a kind gentleman named Rodney Bowden, gave her a stern look. His wife, an Omega well past her bearing years, just looked sad to hear that Rosalie didn’t have someone to take care of her during her coming Heat. She wasn’t terribly worried, worst case she would just bunker down in 221C and suffer.

“Well, if I can’t find an Alpha, _maybe_ I can make sure that Travis Mackenzie doesn’t get away with murder and attempted kidnapping.” She looked at the notes she had taken during her brief interview with the Bowdens. “Are there any other neighbours around you think I should talk to?”

“You could try the woman in 99, down the way. She seems to know a good deal about the goings-on of the neighbourhood.” Mrs Bowden said faintly, “But I would take care with her, she is a bit odd.”

“I think I can handle odd, Mrs Bowden,” Rosalie promised, rubbing the side of her neck. It had been sore all day, and she thought she had either slept funny or it was another symptom of her oncoming Heat.

“Are you alright, dear?” Mr Bowden had noticed.

“I’m … fine. My neck’s a little sore, I might have done something in my sleep or it’s my Heat.”

“Are you sure, dear?”

“I promise.” She smiled, lowering her hand to keep taking notes. “What’s the name of your neighbour?”

“Adler, I think. She may not be home, her hours are … inconsistent.”

“Well, at worst case I just leave a note to call The Met at her leisure.” Rosalie made note of the name and address of her next point of contact. “Best case, I get her at home and I can talk to her in person.”

“Good luck, my dear!” Mr Bowden followed her to the door, “And good luck with finding Mr Mackenzie, I always had a feeling about him. Knew there was something not right.”

“Your intuition was not wrong, Mr Bowden.” Rosalie stood on the porch. “I’m just glad he didn’t get the twins. God knows what would have happened to them.”

“Oh, knowing him, he would have passed them off as his own!” Mr Bowden said grimly. “Such an awful man, so hateful.”

“I got that from working the scene.” She sighed and noticed it had started to snow. “Well, I’ll make sure to do my part and see to it that Mr Mackenzie can’t hurt anyone else. Ever again.”

“Be careful, Miss Grayson.”

“I will, Mr Bowden. It’s not me you need to worry about, I can handle myself!” Rosalie headed down the stairs of the house. “Take care, don’t let us get a call for an ambulance to your house!”

“No promises, dear!” He just laughed and waved from the door until she was two houses away. Shaking her head, Rosalie set off in search of 99 West Heath Road.

She was about halfway down the hill when she met up again with Greg.

“Did you have any luck?” He asked.

“I did, actually. I got a few that didn’t answer the door, and I gave your card to several people, but I got some good information on Travis Mackenzie for you.” She handed him her notebook, touching the side of her neck. That ache had come back, and it was worse.

“And another neighbour to talk to, when I get the chance.”

“Looks like you had better luck than I did.” Greg studied the notes she had taken, either not noticing her brief discomfort or not saying if he did.

“Of course, it doesn’t hurt at all that you’re a pretty young Omega.”

“I guess it _is_ kind of obvious, isn’t it?”

“A little.” Greg looked up at her and smiled, “But I think most people are smart enough to steer clear of you these days, love.”

“You would sure hope so.” Rosalie thought of the Bowdens and how concerned they had been. Not so much about the case, but for her sake.

“I had one witness ask if I had an Alpha for this Heat and I had to tell him no. He didn’t like that much.”

“Oh?”

“Nice elderly couple, they live just up the road from here.”

“Your helpful informants?”

“Very.” She tugged on the hood of her coat, pulling it up over her head. “Christ it’s freezing.”

“It’s December, what were you expecting?”

“To be fair, Greg, I came from one of the warmest states in the United States, we don’t usually _get_ cold weather like this in Arizona,” Rosalie muttered. “And it probably helps no one that I’m close to my Heat, so my body temp is a little whack.”

“Yeah, that’d do it. I don’t envy you, love.” He leaned in and kissed her on the temple. She knew when he took a breath and wrinkled her nose.

“What?”

“Your scent is much sharper, much more obvious. It’s usually very soft and almost faint, but noticeable. Right now, it’s pretty heavy.” He smiled at her, “Don’t be surprised if you get some hot looks, Rosie.”

“I’ll beat the sense out of anyone who tries to touch me without my permission.” She bristled. As it was, she _had _noticed a few more heads turning the last couple of days than usual, but she had just ignored it.

“Well, since you seem to be having better luck than I am getting people to talk, do you want to go see what you can do with Mackenzie’s neighbour in 99?” Greg looked up from reading over her notes and getting snapshots of them with his phone’s camera. He took pictures so he would have a copy until she could give him the whole record later.

“Sure.”

“Did you get a name for this person?”

“Adler? Didn’t get the first name, but according to the Bowdens, who live in 83 up the way,” She pointed back up the hill, “she seems to know about everything that goes on around here.”

“Huh. I’ll be damned if you aren’t turning into a proper little street tec like your brother, Rosalie.” Greg’s smile softened and he tipped her head back so he could see her eyes under the hood of her coat. “Just find Miss Adler and talk to her if you can.”

“Okay. But I make no promises.”

“And I wouldn’t expect you to.” He stroked her cheek and she took a deep breath of his Alpha scent. Greg always smelled like petrichor, ink-toner, nicotine, and gunpowder. Rosalie had gotten very used to that scent and kept various trivial scent-articles of his, adding to her small collection of such items. But his scent, like the other Alphas she knew, had little actual effect on her at all. It was just something she found familiar and soothing, and she deeply appreciated the freedom to touch and scent as she wished.

Jäger chose that moment to bark at something. Just a short, inquisitive bark, but it distracted Greg and he turned to give Jäger a bit of a scolding.

“Oh, stop that, you!” He said sternly, giving Jäger a tap on the muzzle as a woman walking her dog came down the hill towards them. “It’s just another dog, you don’t need to make that kind of noise!”

“Well, well, Inspector Lestrade!” The woman smiled, apparently recognizing Greg from somewhere. “Fancy seeing you in this part of town!”

“Oh, Rebecca!” Greg returned the familiar greeting. “Hey! Great to see you.”

“What on earth are you doing in my neighbourhood?” The woman inquired, glancing over at Rosalie. Rosalie marked one of her own by scent and raised an eyebrow.

“We’re just over on business, unfortunately.” Greg just smiled broadly and switched hands on the lead as he held out one hand to greet the woman as the dogs introduced themselves. “And not the enjoyable sort, either.”

“Oh, no. You didn’t a case on Christmas Eve, did you?”

“We’re looking for Travis Mackenzie.”

“Oh, that’s _right_.” Rebecca, whoever she was, grimaced, “You’re the unlucky DI who got the Mackenzie murders. Have you figured it out?”

“The Holmeses are proving themselves invaluable, again, but I decided a bit of street-sounding was in order.”

“So you came all the way up here?”

“Someone has to do the leg-work.” Greg shrugged.

“Oh, I could give you all the dirt on that dog!” Rebecca huffed. “Speaking of _dogs_, who’s this handsome fellow?”

“This is Jäger, I _know _you’ve met him before.” Greg grinned as he tugged on Jäger’s lead when he decided to insert himself into the conversation.

“Oh, of _course_!” Rebecca chuckled and reached out her free hand to give Jäger a pat. “I should have recognized you, Jäger, you’re in uniform and everything!”

“He’s good at what he does, I’ll tell you what.” Greg chuckled. “So, who’s your handsome one, then?”

“This is Victoria,” Rebecca said proudly as the dogs sniffed each other out. “Her job is not _nearly _as exciting as Jäger’s, I’m afraid.”

“Isn’t she a therapy dog?”

“Like I said. Not quite as exciting as police-work.”

“But therapy work isn’t exactly boring, either,” Rosalie added quietly. “I knew lots of therapy dogs in Phoenix, talked to them, too.”

“Oh, you’re being _rude_, Inspector!” Rebecca gave Greg a dirty look, “Who is your quiet Omega?”

“Ah, she’s not _my _Omega, Rebecca.” Greg chuckled, “But she’s going to make someone a perfect mate. This is Rosalie Grayson.”

“She doesn’t have an Alpha?”

“Unfortunately, no.” Greg shook his head. “And not for lack of interest or trying.”

“But she’s close to Heat! Should she even be out right now?”

“Something came up at Baker Street and I gave her an out when I needed a hand with the Mackenzie case.” The Alpha DI explained, “She’s alright, Rebecca. I’ll get her to safety before things get too squirrely.”

“You’d better! And the sooner the better for her sake.” Rebecca studied Rosalie with a sharp eye.

Rosalie used the excuse of adjusting her hood to touch the side of her neck again. Why did it _hurt _so much? It wasn’t just an ache, there was a stinging pain as well. This couldn’t just be her Heat, there was something else. But _what_? And why, _why _did the pain remind her of her inking sessions when she’d gotten her tattoos?

“What’s wrong, kiddo?” Greg had noticed her distraction and twitching, of course, and the inquiry pulled her back to the present.

“Sorry, it’s nothing.” She lowered her hand, not missing how it shook. “Nothing.”

“Honey, your hands are shaking.” Rebecca gave her a look. “Does your neck hurt?”

“It’s just sore, it’s kind of been sore all day. But I don’t know why it would be. Is muscle ache a symptom of Heat?”

“It can be. What kind of pain is it?”

“Achy, but it stings, too, like there’s nerve-pain.” She sniffled. “Honestly, if I had to rate it, I’d rate it with the pain of my inking sessions.”

“Inking sessions?”

“I have three tattoos, and the pain in my neck is kind of reminding me of _that _pain.”

“Can I take a look?” Rebecca stepped into her space, reaching out with one hand. She paused when Rosalie flinched.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Rosalie.” She said softly. “I’m a nurse, see. May I?” Hand extended again in question. Asking permission to judge Rosalie’s status. Rosalie nodded and gave Rebecca her hands. Her pulse was taken and her temperature was measured with practised, impersonal proficiency. It wasn’t the strangest thing she’d ever done, especially not in the month she had been in London. Rosalie lowered her hood and let Rebecca inspect the right side of her neck.

“Well, there’s nothing terribly concerning, but you have irritation, apparent bruising, tenderness, and a bit of swelling.”

“Yeah. I don’t remember doing anything out of the ordinary, I didn’t turn my head too quickly or something like that.”

“Maybe you just slept on it wrong.” Greg was holding both of the dogs now while Rebecca took a minute with Rosalie. “I’ve seen you sleep in some pretty bizarre positions, I can see that being a problem.”

“Well, it looks okay right now, but it could just be a physiologic reaction.” Rebecca smiled at Rosalie. “If it gets worse or spreads, call a doctor as soon as you can.”

“I should probably call Doctor Hanson after this Heat is over and let him know about it.” Rosalie looked at Greg, who nodded.

“You’d better tell John, too, or we’ll be hearing from him.”

“And it won’t be very nice.”

“Alright, well, I’ve wasted enough of your time, so I’ll just head on back to mine!” Rebecca said brightly. “I have a few last-minute gifts to buy the littles, anyway.”

“Oh, it is Christmas, isn’t it?” Rosalie held out one hand to Rebecca. “Thanks for … well, stopping to talk to us.”

“That’s fine! I saw Greg and had to ask what he was doing over here.” Rebecca went for a hug, after asking if that was okay with Rosalie. “Just take care of yourself, Rosalie.”

“I’ll try. After this, I’ll just go home. Or somewhere safe.” She sniffled. That got a sympathetic hand-squeeze from Rebecca, who just smiled and told Rosalie that she could get through this. 

Retrieving Victoria’s lead from Greg, Rebecca headed back to hers, waving goodbye and wishing them a happy Christmas, if that was possible with a case on like they had.

“Well, that was unexpected but nice of Rebecca to stop and chat.” Greg smiled. “She’s one of the best I know, short of Mary. I think they work together.”

“Yeah, I bet they do. And if they don’t, they know each other anyway.” Rosalie pulled her hood back up and put her hands in her pockets. “I like her, though. She’s … nice.”

“Rebecca is _very _nice,” Greg said, nodding agreement.

“She smelled nice, too.”

“Your sense of smell is at peak right now, so you would notice that.” Greg shortened Jäger’s lead. “How’s your head, kiddo?”

“A little fuzzy.” Rosalie looked around to reorient herself to the task at hand and wondered where the fuck 99 West Heath Road was.

“I bet it’s more than a little fuzzy.” Brown eyes narrowed.

“Well, I didn’t say you had to believe me.”

“Brat.” He shook his head. “You look confused. What’s up?”

“Where’s 99 West Heath Road from here?”

“Right across the street.” Greg pointed out a gated drive almost dead across the street from them.

“Oh.” She turned to look across the street. “But … how do I know if she’s home?”

“Well, I did see a car pulled into the drive about five minutes ago, so there is someone in that house right now.” Greg’s smile never faltered, in fact, it just got bigger. If that was possible.

“You’re a brilliant girl, you know that, right?”

“I think so?”

“Mind if I keep Jäger while you’re busy tracking down Miss Adler? I’ll keep him out of trouble.”

“Yeah. Sure. He’s all yours, Inspector.” Rosalie blinked, swayed on her feet, and was steadied by a familiar hand. 

“Take it easy, Rosie-girl.” Greg’s voice was soft and soothing. “Call me when you’re done and I’ll come back and pick you up, alright?”

“Okay.” Rosalie looked at the massive, elevated house across the street. “Um. Thanks, Greg. I’ll, uh, call later?”

“Good girl.” He soothed as he pulled away. “I’ll see you later, Rosalie.”

“Yeah. Sure thing.” She said faintly. Greg gave her a quick hug and Jäger insisted on a last fuss before Rosalie set off to talk to her next source.

Crossing West Heath Road as Greg walked back to his car with Jäger, Rosalie stopped at the gates that separated 99 West Heath Road from the rest of the neighbourhood. She couldn’t actually see the house from here, but she could see the stairs that led up to the front door.

“Hell of a house.” She murmured as she tried the pedestrian gate. It was unlocked, which was convenient. Slipping through the gate, and making very sure to close it behind her, Rosalie brushed off her coat and looked up the stairs.

“That’s a lot of stairs.” Well, she wasn’t going to get anything accomplished standing here like an idiot, was she? Squaring her shoulders and clenching her right hand in a fist so she wouldn’t try to touch her neck again, Rosalie headed up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

When she made it to the front door, she knocked and rang the bell. Pushing her hood back to make sure her face wasn't concealed, she waited for someone to answer the door. It didn’t take very long for the door to open, and a very curious, mildly-concerned Beta peered out at Rosalie.

“Yes? Can I help you, miss?”

“Yeah, um, I hope you can. Is Miss Adler home by any chance?”

“Who’s asking?”

“My name is Rosalie Grayson, I’m here on behalf of The Met.” Rosalie dug into her pocket for the badge Greg had given her.

“Is there something wrong, Miss Grayson?” The Beta gave her a slightly suspicious look as she handed over her credentials.

“I would like to ask her a few questions about a neighbour of hers who was involved in a violent crime recently.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Rosalie took the badge back when the Beta returned it to her. “Just a few routine questions, see.”

“Kate! You’re letting in a terrible draught!” A woman’s voice called from behind the Beta, “What is _taking _so long?”

“I’m very sorry, Miss Adler,” The Beta turned to look behind her, “but there’s someone to see you.”

“Then let them in! For Christ’s sake!”

“They’re here for The Met, Miss Adler.”

“Kate, you know the rules. Full compliance at all times with The Met. No exceptions.” There was an edge to that voice that spoke of great power.

“Yes, Miss Adler.”

“Did she give you her name?”

“She gave me her credentials, ma’am.” The Beta gave Rosalie a look, “I think they’re forged.”

“That was not my question, Kate. What is her name?”

“Rosalie Grayson, ma’am? That’s what she said, anyway.”

“Let her in, Kate, I won’t be responsible for leaving an Omega standing half-frozen on my bloody doorstep.” Of course, this woman would know. Anyone within a five-mile radius and a functioning sense of smell would know she was an Omega near her Heat.

“Yes, ma’am.” The Beta became very submissive, it was clear she had overstepped and angered the woman.

A shift in the wind blew a new scent her way and Rosalie froze. It was new and enticing, and warm. Patchouli, dogwood, lavender, and spearmint, an unusual blend. Alpha-Scent. She almost went to her knees on instinct as the scent rolled over her. Rosalie had just encountered another Alpha, a powerful one, too. The first female Alpha she had encountered in London. Well, not counting that gorgon at the health-clinic last month. Rosalie wanted to know two things: Who they were, and if they wouldn’t mind Rosalie staying. Wait, what? Where had that come from? Rosalie fought between the urge to kneel and the urge to obey. Damn, was this what all of her Omega friends had talked about? What the girls at her school had giggled about when they were discussing mates and all of the nonsense that really didn’t interest Rosalie? Recognizing the scent of one’s mate, according to popular media, gossip, and the history books, was near to orgasm. Hard to describe, but you would know immediately if it had happened. Rosalie had always shrugged that off as creative license, gratuitous bodice-ripper smut, romanticized nonsense.

But the fact that she was fighting to stay on her feet, despite the blissfully overwhelming Alpha scent that had her practically obeying centuries of instinct, was indicative otherwise. It wasn’t just so much nonsense, it was _true_. But who was it? The woman had come around the Beta, Kate, and stood _far _too close for someone she hadn’t even met properly. Rosalie quietly lowered the hood of her coat, not because she wanted to but because she was following her intuition. She was all but on autopilot right now, it was bizarre.

“Oh, no, no!” Miss Adler, whoever she was, had noticed and pulled Rosalie’s hood up again. “No, you don’t! You keep your hood up until I say, my dear little Omega! No one else gets to see your face!”

“Y-yes, ma’am.”

“Why don’t you come inside out of this weather and we’ll chat for a bit?” That wasn’t a request.

“Yes, Miss Adler.” Rosalie took one step towards the open door and was hit with a new wave of Miss Adler’s scent. It was … intoxicating and overwhelming, and Rosalie couldn’t get enough of it.

“**Come along, Rosalie.**” Miss Adler said when she noticed Rosalie had fallen behind, though Rosalie would have happily followed her without the use of Alpha-Command. She hadn’t even _touched _Rosalie beyond pulling her hood back up, and Rosalie was almost desperate for a caress. To use a vulgar term, she was gagging for it. 

Rosalie was hardly aware of going inside, it was only when she heard a door close, locks being set, and someone took her coat, that she really paid attention.

“No one is going to hurt you in this house, Rosalie.” Miss Adler’s voice soothed when she held onto her coat.

“I’m … sorry, Miss Adler.” Rosalie said, flushed with shame as she let Miss Adler’s assistant take her coat and the rest of her gear. She was reluctant to part ways with the Glock Mary had given her a month ago, but she did eventually let the assistant take it from her. Once she carried nothing but her cell-phone, a field-notebook Greg had given her after their first case together, and her fraying nerves, a gentle hand on her arm redirected her attentions.

“Yes, Miss Adler?”

“Oh, you sweet young thing.” Her Alpha smiled and reached out to touch her, not missing the ingrained flinch reflex on Rosalie’s behalf. She was getting better about people touching her, but the abuses suffered at the hands of Orlando and his delinquent friends were hard to forget.

“I am not going to hurt you, my love.” Adler said softly, “I don’t know who it was that hurt you so badly you shy from consensual, affirmative touch, but I will _never _treat you that way. Not ever.”

“I’m so sorry, Miss Adler. I know you’re not going to hurt me.” She ducked her head, “None of my Alphas ever have, but … ”

“You can’t help it.” Adler stroked her cheek and smiled, “I promise, you do not have to be afraid of me, Rosalie.”

“Yes, Miss Adler.” She made eye-contact with her Alpha, allowed to do so. Her Alpha. What a strange thing to think. To realize. She actually _had _an Alpha, when all her life she had never expected to be that lucky!

“Now. You are here on behalf of The Met, so why don’t you and I sit down and talk business for a while?” Rosalie whined a little as her Alpha pulled away from her. Adler was walking away towards one of the many rooms on this floor of the house, and Rosalie followed like a dog on a leash. She didn’t want to talk about Travis Mackenzie, she really didn’t, but without knowing what she wanted, Rosalie had no choice. And there had been the barest _hint _of Alpha-Command in that suggestion, so refusing to talk would be a rather poor decision.

Once they were settled in a spacious but cosy reception room that looked out over the rear garden of the house and let out onto a massive terrace, Rosalie found herself at a bit of a loss for what to do next. She was no stranger to questioning suspects or witnesses, but she had never been so … distracted before. At the moment, the source of her distraction was studying her and smiling. Normally an Alpha’s regard made her uncomfortable and she tried to remove herself from the situation. Irene Adler was … different. When Adler caught Rosalie looking, her smile softened.

“What is it, Rosalie?”

“N-nothing. I got distracted, Miss Adler, my apologies.”

“No one would ever think less of you, dear.” A quirk of an eyebrow and a tilt to her smile made Rosalie turn warm. She looked away from the charismatic Alpha. _Her _Alpha. There was a click as Adler set down her teacup and a soft rustle as she settled back in her chair.

“Lucky, lucky me. Rosalie Grayson came knocking on my door.” Her voice was smooth and warm and had that familiar effect on Rosalie. “What on earth are you of all impossible people doing in my neighbourhood?”

“Just over on business, unfortunately.” Rosalie twirled a biro between her fingers, a nervous habit and one of boredom as well. John and Sherlock called it “self-stimming”.

“And not the enjoyable sort, either.”

“Oh, that’s a pity.” She would be damned if Adler didn’t pout. “You said you were here on behalf of The Met. Was it a case that brought you over?”

“We’re looking for your neighbour Travis Mackenzie.”

“Oh, has he finally gone off the rails, then?”

“Er, yes, ma’am.” Rosalie picked up her notebook and looked through her notes. “We were called to a scene down in, uh, Hoxton.”

“_You _were called to a scene?”

“Well, uh, The Met was called first. Then Inspector Lestrade, he, uh, he called up Baker Street and asked for a bit of help.”

“And he got all of you, I take it?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Your brother must trust your skills greatly if he’s willing to take you out in the field with him.” Sea-glass green eyes narrowed, “But you’re used to solving your brother’s cases for him, aren’t you?”

“Sort of.” Rosalie wrinkled her nose and took a sip of her cooling tea. “But, it’s what I’m good at doing. And Lestrade doesn’t mind having me around.”

“I imagine he wouldn’t. You’re a lovely girl, and far more intelligent than people give you credit for.” Adler leaned forward a bit, her gaze intent. “And what about your dog?”

“My dog, ma’am?”

“Jäger.” Adler tilted her head a bit. “He _is _your dog, yes?”

“Oh, no. I mean … yes, Jäger is my dog,” Rosalie set her cup down, “but he belonged to Jeremy Grayson until his handler’s death in 2013.”

“And instead of retraining him to another handler, another deputy, the department was willing to let _you _take the dog?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And he’s been yours ever since?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Hmm. And yet, if I am not mistaken, he still works on occasion on behalf of The Met?”

“Yes, ma’am. I let Inspector Lestrade borrow him on occasion.”

“Inspector Lestrade is with the Dog Support Unit?” Adler’s eyebrows went up in alarm. “I thought he worked in Homicide.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Rosalie cleared her throat and rubbed the right side of her neck. “I guess I should say he_ worked _for DSU until just recently. I don’t know how recently, but after an officer-involved incident, he was reassigned back to Homicide and put on leave from DSU.”

“That explains why there was a marked vehicle from The Met’s DSU parked at the bottom of my street an hour ago.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Rosalie sniffled. “I guess we were sort of obvious, weren’t we?”

“Just a bit, my dear.” Adler chuckled, “So, you’re the ones who picked up the Mackenzie murders ?”

“The Met got it first, we got it second-hand when Lestrade came for help.” She shrugged, wondering why it was so important to clarify that she had only been there because Greg had called on Baker Street and requested her specifically.

“Were you able to solve the case?”

“Not exactly. I mean, yes, but we don’t have our suspect in custody, yet.” She frowned. “We _were _able to recover the twins, and I was able to determine exactly how Sabrina and Thomas Mackenzie had died. And who had killed them.”

“And that’s why you’ve been looking for Travis Mackenzie for most of this afternoon?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Rosalie looked at the unusual Alpha, thinking that the Bowers had been right about Adler. “Can you tell us anything?”

“Of course I can, my dear.” Adler smiled and held out one hand. “Give me your notebook. I’ll write it all down for you.” Rosalie obediently handed over the notebook and watched Adler turn to a blank page before she began to write.

With the Alpha otherwise occupied, and potentially distracted, she touched the side of her neck again, tracing the path of the discomfort. It started behind her right ear, or _on _her right ear, and went down the side of her neck at a slight curve and angle to stop about midway. What _was _it? It was obviously something people could see, Greg’s friend Rebecca had seen it, but … what was the cause of it? And why did the pain remind her so much of getting a tattoo? It was nearly the same kind of pain, and it confused her. She was already sort of muddled with her Heat coming, and this didn’t help.

“That is the third time you have touched the right side of your neck since you sat down, Rosalie.” The sound of Miss Adler’s voice startled her so much she gave a yelp of alarm and flinched.

“I’m very sorry, Miss Adler.” She quickly dropped her hand, caught in the act. “I didn’t … ”

“Is something wrong, Rosalie?” Adler interrupted her with a stern look.

“No, Miss Adler.” She murmured, flushed with shame and the start of frenzy. She remembered it from the False Heat she had experienced to terminate her pseudocyesis and all of the research she had done during her Sexuality and Dynamics classes.

“What do you mean, no?” She felt the familiar frisson of Alpha-Command across her skin and swallowed thickly. This was a simple warning.

“I’m … fine, Miss Adler. It’s nothing.”

“**Do not lie to me, Omega.**” The full force of Alpha-Command took Rosalie’s breath away and she gasped in shock. The pain in her neck became a sharp, burning-stinging sensation, causing her eyes to blur with tears. Her chest felt heavy and her throat was tight. Was this a panic attack? Or something else? It was an entirely new sensation, and not a very pleasant one.

“**Answer me.**” She had hesitated too long answering.

“I’m … sorry.” She whispered hoarsely. “I don’t … ” She trailed off, unable to put words together at the moment, and covered her face with both hands. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she tried to make herself small. Something had gone very, very wrong, and she had no idea what it was or when it had gone wrong. Or how to fix it, if fixing it was even an option.

**_“You’re a Zero.” _**She heard an echo of Orlando’s voice taunting her and whimpered.**_ “No one is ever going to want you!”_**

“Stop it! Stop it, stop it!” Rosalie moaned, covering her ears instead of her face. As if that futile gesture could drive her foster-brother’s sneering voice out of her head. “Just ... shut up! Leave me alone!”

There was a rustle of movement as Miss Adler got up from her perch, setting aside the notebook Rosalie had given her and placing her empty tea-cup on top of it to hold it open on the proper page, and came across the reception room. A hand touched the back of her head, stroking through her hair, and Rosalie suddenly remembered how to breathe.

“Oh, you sweet, heartbroken creature.” Miss Adler’s voice was soft again, soothing. Rosalie took a deep breath, filling her senses with her Alpha’s scent, letting the scent wash over her and fill her until it was all she could focus on.

“Who was it, Rosalie?”

“Who was what, Miss Adler?” She couldn’t bear to look up and was grateful Miss Adler didn’t insist on it.

“The person who hurt you so much the use of Alpha-Command makes you cringe and whimper.”

“M-my, uh, foster-brother, ma’am.” She cleared her throat.

“Would I be wrong assuming this person was abusive and controlling?”

“No, ma’am, not at all. He was … awful.” Rosalie sighed, taking comfort in the smell, feel, and sound of her Alpha. Her Alpha, she kept forgetting that’s how it worked now.

“Did he ever hurt you, Rosalie?”

“Yes, ma’am, at every opportunity he thought he could get away with it.”

“He raped you.” It was not a question. Rosalie couldn’t say the word, but a nod was an acceptable response to the statement. Carefully manicured fingers tightened in her hair, but not enough to hurt.

“If he is still in Phoenix, he is far too fortunate a man.” Her Alpha’s voice was hard, cold. “But, no, he is no man. He is a monster. Feeding on the fear and vulnerability of those he sees as less than himself, breaking down those he is inferior to until they are dispirited and ruined and he can control them.”

Hearing it laid out so deliberately was painful, but someone else describing Orlando Garza in those terms was … strangely liberating. Rosalie just nodded, requesting more touch at the same time with a nuzzle to Miss Adler’s wrist. She wasn’t sure if she was allowed to do that, but she couldn’t speak at the moment.

“And yet, despite his best efforts and repeated attempts and assaults, it seems he didn’t quite succeed with you, my love.” Miss Adler’s hand moved from Rosalie’s hair to the side of her neck, the right side of her neck. “You may be dejected, but you are not defeated and not nearly as broken.”

“I’m … damaged goods.” She said hoarsely. “Who would ever want someone like me?”

“Stop that, Rosalie.” There was no Alpha-Command, but the intent was very clear. “Stop that, right this instant.”

“Stop … what, Miss Adler?”

“Look at me, sweetheart.” A gentle hand cupped her chin and tipped her head back, and Rosalie made eye-contact with her Alpha.

“Miss Adler?”

“Stop belittling yourself. You are damaged, yes, but not undesirable.” Miss Adler gave her a stern but gentle look. “You are young, beautiful, intelligent, and kind, even to those who are cruel to you.”

“Not always, Miss Adler.” Rosalie sniffled. “I can be very … petty.”

“That is human nature, my love.” Miss Adler smiled, “Besides, anyone would consider themselves lucky to have the Holmes Omega.”

“How did you … ?” Rosalie felt a stab of alarm. She had never, _ever _named herself Holmes. Had she?

“I am very familiar with your brothers, my dear little Omega.” Her Alpha studied her with soft eyes. “We go back quite a way. And you look just enough like dear silly Sherlock there is little question.”

“Oh. Really?”

“And your intelligence is very telling.” She felt cool fingertips running along the side of her neck, along the patch of irritated skin. It felt rather nice, and Rosalie closed her eyes and leaned into the touch as much as she dared.

“Oh, you like that?” Her reaction had been noticed, but Miss Adler was very observant.

“You feel nice. Your skin is very … cool. And soft.”

“Hmm. Well, my dear, you make a very poor liar.”

“What?”

“You kept saying it was nothing, that you were fine. But this,” Another stroke along the side of her neck, “this is not nothing.”

“It kind of itches.”

“I can imagine it might.” A soft chuckle and a brief caress to her right ear. “Mine certainly gave me a bit of trouble when it developed.”

“Your … uh, what, Miss Adler?” Rosalie was confused, but not upset that she might have missed something.

“Come with me, my dear. Let me show you something.” Miss Adler coaxed her to her feet and led Rosalie to a massive mirror that hung beside the wood-burning fireplace. When they were standing before the mirror, Miss Adler put Rosalie where she wanted her to stand and then stood behind her. Rosalie saw a peek of blue on her neck and wondered what it was. It was too bright to be a bruise.

“What is that?” She asked in a whisper.

“Look, Rosalie.” Miss Adler smiled and turned Rosalie just so she could see better. And what she saw took Rosalie’s breath away in the best way.

“Oh my god.” She breathed softly, “Is that what I think it is?”

“It’s exactly what you think it is, my love.” Miss Adler’s smile turned soft as she rested her chin on Rosalie’s shoulder, “This, my sweet Omega, is why you’ve been in such pain.”

“It’s … beautiful!” Rosalie turned a bit more to get a better look at the Soul Mark. “I didn’t think Soul Marks were a real thing!”

“Oh, they are _very _real.” Green eyes sparkled with amusement at Rosalie’s blatant awe. “I was wondering what the meaning of mine was, what that crazy old Beta was talking about all those years ago.”

“What Beta, Miss Adler?” Rosalie asked, her voice soft and a little hoarse from the mild panic attack she’d had a minute ago as she studied the Soul Mark that had appeared on her skin. A bold, bright slash of blue and black and yellow, and yet … it was surprisingly subtle. Closer inspection yielded a train of butterflies that trailed from behind her right ear down to a point near her throat. Two of the butterflies were etched into the skin of her ear, the rest were arranged into a curve down the side of her neck.

“The Beta who told me when I was five that I would fall in love and marry a very special Omega.” Miss Adler leaned close and, making eye-contact with Rosalie in the mirror, kissed the side of her neck. The intimate, gentle touch nearly buckled Rosalie’s knees.

“My mother thought he was mad, pulled me away from him before I could ask any questions. Said I should never listen to people like that, they’re all raving.”

“What … he must have told you _something_, Alpha?” Rosalie struggled to focus. So many things that had never made sense, that had always confused her, were coming together in a startling, beautiful picture.

“Come sit down.” Adler tugged her back over to the couch, this time sitting next to her. Once they were seated, she took Rosalie’s hand in hers.

“Before my mother dragged me away, the Beta gave me a name. Just a last name, I couldn’t get a first name out of him.”

“What name did he give you, Alpha?” Rosalie asked quietly, relishing in the sudden sense of belonging, of peace. This was her safe place, the judgment and consideration of her brothers be damned. It would be important for them to _know _Rosalie had found her Alpha, but they were not allowed to talk her out of this.

“Holmes.” Adler stroked her hair as Rosalie leaned against her, settling against her left flank and nuzzling against her neck where Alpha-Scent was strongest.

“Really?” Rosalie frowned. “Not such an uncommon name.”

“Uncommon enough.” She heard the amusement in her Alpha’s voice. “So, when I first heard the names of Sherlock Holmes and Mycroft Holmes, I did _everything _in my power to see if they were the one.”

“God I hope they weren’t!” Rosalie grimaced, “I feel sorry enough for John getting stuck with Sherlock as it is!”

“Oh, they put me off _very _quickly, and made it quite clear that any further … advances would be unwelcome.” Adler chuckled. “No, don’t worry, dearest. But you have three brothers, did you know that?”

“Yes, Alpha, but I haven’t had a chance to meet him yet. I think he works for Mycroft at MI-6 or something fancy like that.” Rosalie shrugged and resettled. “Called ‘im … Q, I think?”

“Geoffrey Boothroyd Quincey Holmes is the whole of it.”

“Jesus!” She snorted, “Didn’t our parents care about people making _fun _of us?!”

“Sweetling, I wouldn’t begin to wonder.” Adler scolded gently, “No, I took a shot with Q and hit a dead-end with him as well, which was a bit of a shame, really.”

“Why?”

“Because out of all of the Holmes siblings I met, he was the only Omega.”

“Then here comes Baby Sister Holmes, upending the way of the world and causing a ruckus at Baker Street.” Rosalie grinned, “Now look what happened?”

“Indeed. Lucky me.”

“Lucky you. Lucky me.” Rosalie leaned her head back to look up at her Alpha. “Lucky _us_. And fuck my foster-brother, who told me no one would ever want me, who told me I was a Zero, a nothing, worse than nothing, and worthless.”

“Don’t ever give him the courtesy of a momentary thought, Omega.” A tingle across her skin was a hint of Alpha-Command, a gentle warning. “Until he becomes a problem again, becomes a _threat_, you will not think of that monster.”

“Yes, Alpha.” She didn’t _want _to think about Orlando, anyway. “But I _do _have a bit of a problem?”

“What is that, love?”

“It’s … awful. I have to marry before the New Year.”

“What?” Oh, boy, there was that dark tone again. “You have to get _married_?”

“My adopted family, the Graysons, tampered with my application for emancipation.”

“That cannot be legal.”

“I grew up in a blue-line household, I know.” She huffed, “And someone added an amendment that to be _granted _emancipation, never mind the application getting accepted in the first place, I had to get married within a month from the date of acceptance.”

“Your application _must _have been accepted,” Adler mused, “or you wouldn’t have been allowed to leave the United States.”

“Because the judge who dismissed my case didn’t care to address it, either unaware or just uncaring. Could go either way, Judge Lachey had no problem handing me my liberty and giving the Graysons the middle finger.”

“So, when were you emancipated?”

“The 17th of November, last month. I’m already a week past my “or-else” date, but I don’t know what to do.” Rosalie sniffled and looked at Adler, “Are you _sure _you want me for your Omega? I’m more trouble than worth.”

“Absolutely not! You are not leaving this house without me!” Adler’s eyes hardened, “And there _are _laws in place for just this very thing!”

“So … now what?”

“Now? Well, if I’m not mistaken, it’s your birthday. And if you only found out today, that is despicable. And quite deliberate, if I had to guess.” Adler shook her head. “But instead of dwelling on the legal misdeeds of your adopted family, we’ll do something else with our time.”

“What, exactly, did you have in mind?” Rosalie was afraid to ask but desperately wanted to know.

“I was thinking something special, to celebrate your birthday.”

“What about it?”

“Perhaps dinner, Miss Grayson?” There was a glint to Adler’s eyes as she looked at Rosalie with a rather predatory gaze. “A private affair, just the two of us. I would love absolutely nothing more than to take you out and spoil you with a proper meal and a night to remember.” Something in Rosalie’s brain short-circuited and she just stared.

“Are you … you’re serious?”

“I’d swear on a bible if it would help!”

“But, I’m just … uh … ”

“You are _my _Omega, Rosalie Grayson.” Adler leaned in so her mouth was right next to Rosalie’s ear. “And tonight marks the end of your life at the mercy of people who make the rules to take advantage of the faint-hearted.” She felt a bit of indignation at being called faint-hearted, but that just made Adler smile when she tried to pull herself more upright.

“Not that _you _are faint-hearted, my love.” Adler’s voice was a silky purr that shot liquid heat into Rosalie’s core. “You are bold, sweet, and sassy. And mine.” 

“Oh.” It was a high, soft whine more than an actual word.

“Now, we have preparations to make, no time to be wasted!” With that, Adler was up on her feet and retrieving her cell-phone and Rosalie’s notebook.

“Where are we going?”

“Dress-shopping! Come along!” Adler was gone then, out of sight and leaving Rosalie to follow in a bit of a daze.

* * *

* * *


	12. Dynamics

* * *

* * *

Following Miss Adler netted Rosalie a whirlwind affair of dress-shopping and hair and makeup. It was nearly six hours from the time they left West Heath Road to the time Rosalie made it back to Baker Street to get ready. This included visits to several dress-shops to find something suitable for Rosalie to wear that night, and an appointment at a top-level salon for the most thorough pampering session she’d ever experienced. While dress-shopping, Rosalie tried on and discarded more dresses than she ever remembered trying before. She had a few formal events under her belt, occasions at which something a bit classier than jeans and a tee-shirt was required dress-code. That didn’t mean she liked dresses, wearing dresses, or shopping for them.

And yet, there was something different about the whole god-awful experience when it was Miss Adler keeping her company. It was less stressful, and almost … _fun_. That might have had something to do with the fact that Miss Adler was not afraid to let out her inner Alpha for a little playtime when someone made a blunder. Rosalie found it great fun to watch Miss Adler tear someone apart with a few words and a look. She knew she shouldn’t, it was wrong to take amusement at someone else’s expense. And yet, she couldn’t help herself. Just for once, Rosalie wasn’t the one getting chewed out, that was kind of rare. So if she took delight in someone else’s misfortunes, she might be forgiven.

One notable moment occurred while she was browsing a rack of dresses at a boutique she normally wouldn’t have set foot in. Between the price-tags, the usual clientele, and the staff, it was _definitely _not Rosalie’s typical haunt. It became disgustingly clear why shortly after she picked up a price-tag just to look.

“Oh, don’t _bother_, my dear!” A sickly-sweet, oily voice oozed from behind her a split-second before the scent of an Alpha hit her. It wasn’t Miss Adler or any of Rosalie’s Alphas and the scent was distinctly unpleasant.

“I’m sorry?” She looked over at the Alpha shopkeeper, who just gave her a patronizing, condescending smile.

“A young Omega like yourself could never _hope _to be able to afford anything in this store!” The woman sneered. “It is far out of your price-range, dear!”

“What on earth makes you think I’m unable to afford something out of your store?” Rosalie demanded. As if she really wanted anything from this place at all? She didn’t, but that wasn’t the point.

“Quite frankly, we don’t _serve_ your kind here.”

“Serve my _kind_?” Rosalie turned head-on to the Alpha, squaring her stance and prepared to stand up for herself and every other Omega in the city. “What, you can’t be bothered to serve an Omega, is that it?”

“No. We don’t serve low-class scum who apparently can’t dress themselves to acceptable social standards.” And then it occurred to Rosalie why she was being treated like this. It wasn’t her status as an Omega, it was the way she was _dressed_. Rosalie was currently wearing distressed jeans and a crop-top with a pair of insulated winter boots and her parka for the weather. And really, she didn’t care what anyone thought. Miss Adler hadn’t ordered her to change her clothes before they’d left Hampstead, so she doubted her Alpha cared that much. Rosalie’s personal comfort was far more important than any preconceived idea of how she should look in public.

That reminded Rosalie, where _was _Miss Adler? They had come in together, but she didn’t recall getting separated. Miss Adler rarely let her out of sight, let alone arm’s reach. But a quick search of her immediate surround turned up no sign of her Alpha. That was a problem.

“You know, I could have you tossed out for public disturbance.”

“I’m not bothering anyone,” Rosalie said quietly. “I have no control over my biology.”

“Oh _yes, _you do.” Alphaic hostility was one drawback of her Dynamic, both in and out of Heat. And Rosalie was beginning to understand why some Omegas never left the house by themselves. But her Heat hadn’t started yet. She was feverish and irritable, but she wasn’t disorientated or hypersensitive. Not yet. That could quickly change.

“Your lack of control over your instincts is not my fault,” Rosalie said carefully, putting a bit of distance between herself and the aggressive Alpha, “but if you so much as lay a _hand _on me, you’ll be charged with assault and harassment.”

“Are you so sure of that, Omega?”

“I know my rights, and I know the laws that protect me.” She prepared to use her body as a weapon, “I can have this place shut down so fast you won’t have time to sell off your stock.”

“No, you can’t.”

“Yes, actually, she can.” And there was the cavalry. Boy, if timing wasn’t everything. Rosalie took a deep breath of three intermingled, familiar Alpha-Scents and took a few more steps backwards.

“Are you alright, Rosalie?” As her Alpha’s hand closed over her shoulder, Rosalie looked right at the rude Alpha shopkeeper and gave her a hostile smile.

“Yes, Miss Adler. I’m fine. She never laid a hand on me.” Rosalie said, never breaking eye contact with the shopkeeper, “Though I’m certain she’d love a chance to.”

“And that would be a grave mistake on Mrs Barr’s behalf.” The warning was heavy in Mycroft’s voice, the tingle of Alpha-Command made Rosalie’s skin itch.

“Oh, no, no! No, you misunderstand me, sirs!” The shopkeeper said, all charm and smiles, “No, of course, I meant no harm to the Omega! Or insult, either! Of course, I wouldn’t treat a potential customer so rudely!”

“Oh, yes you would.” There was Greg, not that she was too surprised to see him. 

“There’s cameras all over this place, aren’t there?” He inquired.

“Of course there are!” The Alpha drew herself up a bit. “For protection against shoplifters and theft!”

“I imagine your usual clientele would never stoop to stealing from your store, would they?” He said in a carefully bored tone, ready with his badge and handcuffs for good measure. Nice scare-tactic, that was. Rosalie had watched the guys use the same tactic back in Phoenix, it was always fun to see someone realize just how much _trouble_ they were in. She looked around and picked out each of the visible cameras. Then she turned to her eldest brother. Mycroft, by no means an ignorant man or a patsy, just nodded when she met his gaze. Everything that had happened in the last ten minutes was caught on camera. And those cameras were under _his _jurisdiction. Nice.

“Well, no. But we get unsavoury sorts in here occasionally and, well, you know how they are.”

“You say unsavoury sorts,” Mycroft said in a careful, neutral tone. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well, I … I’m not sure why it’s any business of yours!”

“Because the Omega you just accused of causing a disturbance and threatened, is kin to me. Family. And I do not take it lightly when someone threatens my loved ones.”

“I never threatened her! And never mind that, who are _you _to talk to me like that!”

“Madam, I am Mycroft Holmes.” There it was. He adjusted the cuffs of his overcoat and glanced up at the woman, “I imagine you’re familiar with my name?” Oh, yes she was.

“Oh, Mister Holmes!” Mrs Barr gushed, “I didn’t recognize you, sir, I am so sorry!”

“And I believe Miss Adler is a regular customer of yours, as well?” Mycroft turned to Miss Adler, who had moved to take Rosalie’s hand. He didn’t seem terribly bothered by the fact that Miss Adler was Rosalie’s Alpha. Unless … he didn’t _know_? No, he knew, he had to know. He knew everything.

“Yes, sir.”

“Is the way you’ve treated Rosalie Grayson the way you would treat another customer’s Omega, Mrs Barr?” Miss Adler inquired, her voice low and dangerous.

“No, Miss Adler.”

“Or the way you would treat _my_ Omega, Mrs Barr?”

“No, Miss Adler, of course not!”

“Then you clearly do not understand the truth of the situation. Rosalie Grayson is no stray Omega who wandered in off the streets.” Miss Adler studied Mrs Barr the way Mrs Barr had just recently studied Rosalie. “She is _my _Omega, and if you ever treat her that way again, it will be the last mistake you commit.”

“Oh, you must be mistaken, Miss Adler!”

“I am?”

“This ruffian _can’t_ belong to someone like you!” Mrs Barr clearly didn’t comprehend, and that would be her undoing.

“Why is that?”

“The likes of her don’t deserve an Alpha! Ungrateful, worthless, I know her type!”

“I think we’re done here. Good day to you, Mrs Barr. We will be in touch,” Mycroft said darkly, his hand coming to rest heavily on Rosalie’s shoulder. “ Rosalie, come.” No need to use Alpha-Command, she was right behind him.

As soon as they were out on the streets again, Rosalie took a deep breath of cold, fresh air to clear her senses.

“Are you alright, Rosalie?”

“I’m fine. Mrs Barr never laid a hand on me.” She leaned her head back. “I hate people who treat other Dynamics as less-than. Omegas and Nulls are ignored, abused, exploited.”

“You will find people like that everywhere you go, I’m afraid.”

“Destroy her.” Rosalie turned to the three Alphas behind her, “Ruin her. I don’t care how you do it.”

“Just do it?”

“Please. I can’t be the only person she’s harassed.”

“Of course.” Mycroft turned to Greg and Miss Adler. “I’ll leave it in your hands, Inspector, Miss Adler.”

“We won’t let you down, Mycroft,” Greg said grimly.

“I trust you have plenty of material which could be put to use against Mrs Barr, Miss Adler?”

“Oh, loads.” Miss Adler’s eyes glittered with a dangerous light. “And every bit of it is yours for having, Mr Holmes. My regards.”

“Send it on with Rosalie, she’ll deliver it to Baker Street.” Mycroft turned as a black car pulled up at the kerb and stopped. That was his.

“Of course, Mr Holmes.”Miss Adler said firmly as the driver appeared to open the door for Mycroft.

“Oh, and more thing, Irene?” He turned before he got into the car. “Do take care of my little sister, won’t you? I’m afraid she’s possessed of an excess of temper and may prove a bit difficult to handle.”

“I think I can handle your little sister, Mycroft. She’s in very good hands, I promise.”

“I’ll be in touch.”

“You always are.” That got a smile out of Miss Adler. Rosalie did not miss the brief use of first-name address. That was interesting.

“Good luck, Rosalie.” He looked at Rosalie next, his expression softening. “And happy birthday, my dear.”

“Thanks for popping out of the woodwork, Myc.” Rosalie just smiled at her brother, “Guess it helps to have a nosy older brother running the government behind our backs.”

“Oh, for God’s sake.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s a minor position!”

“Bullshit, and you know it!” She snickered. “Go on, Mycroft! See you later!”

“Oh, not for some time, dear!” He grinned smugly.

“Ugh, don’t be a smartass, Mycroft.”

“Of course not! I’m the _smart_ one!”

“No, you’re a bloody show-off.” She muttered as he disappeared into the car. Once the government-marked car had disappeared into traffic, she looked at Miss Adler and Greg.

“Well, _that _was interesting.” She huffed, shoving her hands into her pockets. “I guess Mycroft knows?”

“He knows. He knows everything.”

“And he’s okay with this?” She couldn’t believe her brother would be so accepting of such a major change and development in Rosalie’s life. Of course, since this more or less negated that stupid amendment in her application, he couldn’t really complain about it. None of them could.

“He won’t get in your way, if that’s what you’re worried about, Rosie,” Greg promised, pulling her into a tight hug. “You handled yourself like a champ back there, you’re a strong girl.”

“I can stand up for myself when I have to.”

“But you’re willing to let others step in on your behalf?” Miss Adler inquired.

“Eh, I might need to work a little on that.” She shrugged, “I’m not used to people standing up for me because they want to, not out of obligation.”

“You are very self-sufficient, and you’ve had to be for so long.”

“I’m also terribly stubborn and outspoken. I don’t always mind my manners, and I might just be an unforgivably disobedient Omega.”

“You are not property, even though you are my responsibility now.” Miss Adler tucked a piece of hair behind Rosalie’s right ear. “Do try to stay on your best behaviour, dear.”

“I make absolutely no promises, Miss Adler.”

“Miss Adler, give me a call if you need a hand with Rosalie,” Greg said with a chuckle. “She’s a feisty one.”

“She’s young, Gregory. And impulsive.”

“You be careful with this one. She’s a Holmes.”

“I know, dear. But what good luck brought her my way, we may never know.” Miss Adler looked at Rosalie and smiled.

“Well, if I thought I could trust you two, I’d get back to work.”

“I’m not a five-year-old!”

“You’re a Holmes, you’re an Omega, and you’re this close to Heat, sweetheart.” Greg looked at Rosalie, “I’m going to worry.”

“I’m _fine_.”

“I don’t know if you’re fine, but you’re definitely in good hands.” He gave her one last hug. “See you in a week, kiddo.”

“But, um, don’t tell Sherlock?” She stammered. “Please don’t? Not yet?”

“Oh, don’t worry, love, they won’t find out about this little development from _me_.” He promised, his eyes bright as he leaned in. “Just relax and let Miss Adler take care of you, alright?”

“Okay. But I make no promises.”

“And I wouldn’t expect you to.” He stroked her cheek and she took one last deep breath of his Alpha scent.

“Goodbye, Irene.” Greg turned to her Alpha. “Happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas, Gregory.” Miss Adler smiled as they exchanged pleasantries. Greg took Miss Adler’s hand and kissed the back of it, a gentlemanly thing to do. Then, he was gone, hands in his pockets and whistling a Christmas ditty.

“Come along, Rosalie. We have preparations to make!” Miss Adler took her hand and redirected her focus. Rosalie just followed her Alpha to the white car parked nearby. Kate held the door for them and Miss Adler gave the name of their next destination.

“Glitterati, please, Kate.”

“Yes, Miss Adler.” Kate nodded and rolled up the tinted divider, giving them privacy as they got underway. Rosalie hummed along with the radio and leaned against her Alpha, who held out her arm in invitation. Rosalie made herself comfortable, taking the offered intimacy without question. Miss Adler let her be, knowing if she wanted to talk, she would. Right now, she wanted to just sit quietly and be with her Alpha. And if that was all she required of her Alpha for the moment, she would not be judged.

* * *

* * *


	13. Speak Of Beauty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosalie and Miss Adler's outing continues, and some well-deserved pampering is had.

* * *

* * *

Following that one mishap, Miss Adler asked Rosalie if she’d rather just go home. It was a thoughtful gesture, but Rosalie wasn’t going to let one pretentious Alpha ruin her afternoon.

“No one should treat you that way, ever.” Miss Adler said grimly. “I can tell Kate to drive us somewhere else. Back to Baker Street, if you’d like.”

“No, Miss Adler.” She shook her head. “I’m fine.”

“If you’re absolutely sure?”

“Yes, Miss Adler, I’m sure.” Rosalie looked at her Alpha, “I’m so used to people treating me like that, it doesn’t bother me.”

“Stubborn girl.”

“Well, you’re the one who decided to keep me around.” Rosalie just smiled.

“Cheeky little Omega.” Miss Adler scolded.

“Holmes.”

“Shush.” Miss Adler rolled her eyes and tugged on Rosalie’s hair in warning.

“You can still change your mind, you know.”

“Oh, not on your life.” She saw an eyebrow go up. “I’m not going to change my mind, Rosalie.”

“Really?”

“I promise.” Green eyes found hers and held her. “This is no passing fancy, and it should not be treated carelessly. I am your Alpha, Rosalie Grayson, and I have waited thirty years to finally meet you.” There was just a hint of Alpha-Command in Miss Adler’s voice as she spoke, running her fingers along Rosalie’s Soul Mark tattoo. Rosalie resettled herself and let it get quiet in the cabin again. She knew she was being a bit of a brat right now, but couldn’t be bothered to feel sorry about that.

In the course of visits to two more boutiques and retailers, Rosalie finally settled on her dress for the night. And not just one dress, but two. The first dress was a sleeveless number with a scoop neckline with thin rhinestone-detailed straps; gown silhouette and pullover styling; high-low hem and a cutaway layer on the skirt. It was lovely, rather modest, and fit like a glove. Rosalie had settled on a soft ivory/off-white, which she thought contrasted nicely with the thin straps. She didn't know when she would ever have an occasion for it, but it was a purchase she did not regret making.

The second dress was a bit less modest than the high-low dress. The dress was another sleeveless affair, but that was the last of it’s similarities to the silver high-low. It was designed to hit above the knee. Well above the knee. With a scoop neckline and adjustable shoulder straps, self-tie lace-up closure at the back and zipper at the lower back, it was the kind of dress that would have had Mark Linker forbidding her to leave the house at all. Rosalie’s favourite part of the dress was the all-over metallic detail of the material. She liked that more than even the moulded cups sewn into the bodice. Functional and terribly practical, those were. A bonus. And it was obvious that Miss Adler liked the second dress as much as Rosalie did, which was really the only immediate opinion that mattered.

Once they had the matter of dress-shopping sorted, it was off to get shoes and accessories handled. Rosalie treated herself to two pairs of shoes, both had a bit of a glass-slipper feel to them and she liked the way they fit. One was a mid-heel mule with a thin, adjustable back-strap, an illusion mesh panel, and decorated with shimmering crystals. The second pair was low-heeled pumps, dressed up with an eye-catching grid of crystal detailing. Neither had a heel-height of more than three inches, which was more than enough for Rosalie. She wasn’t nearly as tall as her brothers, but God help anyone who dared to call her “Shorty”.

When the last of the necessities for that night had been taken care of, it was off to the salon to do something about Rosalie’s hair. And the rest of her. Miss Adler inquired as to her familiarity with body-waxing. Yes, but nothing more painful than getting her eyebrows waxed and once when she had gotten her underarms waxed. That had not been very pleasant.

“I wouldn’t suggest anything to cause you deliberate harm, my dear, but if you trust me?”

“Yes, Miss Adler.” Rosalie nodded, dreading why she had been asked.

“That was not the question I asked you.” Miss Adler said quietly. “**Do you _trust me_, Rosalie?**”

“Yes, I do. You won’t hurt me, and you won’t let anyone else hurt me, either.” She looked at her Alpha as the familiar frisson tingled across her skin. “But there are things I’ll be asked to do for you that _will _hurt.”

“Will you do these things as and when you are asked to?”

“Yes, Miss Adler.”

“Then, I’m going to ask you to trust me.”

“I do.”

“You say you have waxed your eyebrows, and once you waxed your underarms?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’d like to introduce you to something a bit more … intimate.”

“Oh. Okay.” Rosalie swallowed a little nervously.

“It will hurt, but the result is very pleasant.” Her Alpha reached over and took her hand, “You’re a very shy girl, aren’t you?”

“No one has really ever called me pretty, or been nice to me.” She said quietly. “At least not until I came to London.”

“Your foster-brother was no doubt alone in his bullying.”

“No, Alpha. He wasn’t.”

“As long as I am your Alpha, as long as your brother and your friends are willing to step up in your defence, no one the likes of Orlando Garza and his like will ever lay hand to you like that again.” The grip on her hand tightened in warning, but she wasn’t the one in trouble. Not this time.

* * *

The salon Miss Adler had chosen, one she frequented quite regularly, was a full-service salon-spa. This was the reason she had inquired as to Rosalie’s experience with body-waxing. On the docket for the rest of Rosalie’s afternoon was a full-body makeover of sorts. The only thing off-limits was her hair for anything more than a trim/style. This was made excruciatingly clear when the head-stylist on Rosalie’s small team of stylists and beauticians asked if they were interested in dying her hair back to its natural colour, whatever that happened to be.

“Do not touch the colour of her hair.” Miss Adler said firmly. “There is nothing wrong with it.” This got a few concerned looks, but the subject was left alone after that. Rosalie was the first and, possibly, the _only _customer who had ever come to them with their hair dyed such outrageous colours.

Before Rosalie was taken to the first of her “body-scaping” treatments, she gave her Alpha a hug.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Telling them to leave my hair alone.”

“You have your own personality, and unique ways to express it.” Miss Adler smiled, taking a piece of Rosalie’s hair between her fingers, “This is absolutely acceptable. You’ve taken care with it, and there is no reason to alter it in any way beyond what _you _want.” With a kiss on the cheek and a stroke to Rosalie’s Soul Mark tattoo, she was sent on her way.

The first thing she did was undress and remove her piercings, putting everything in a locker. Wearing nothing but a soft robe, Rosalie followed the lead-stylist into a treatment-room. There she was introduced to a cheerful Beta woman named Hannah, who explained what she was going to do and asked a few questions.

“You have waxed before?”

“Just my eyebrows and underarms,” Rosalie said as she sat on the treatment table, swinging her feet nervously.

“Well, what I’m going to do is clean up your eyebrows first, just at the arch and the bridge of your nose.” Hannah ran her fingertips along the curve of Rosalie’s eyebrows. “You’ve maintained the tails nicely. I’ll clean that up as well, with threading and tweezing. The rest will be done with waxing.”

“Okay.”

“If you’ll stand up for a moment, and remove the robe, I’ll see what else we have to work with. If that’s alright with you?”

“Um. Sure.” Rosalie wasn’t exactly body-shy, but there was a bit of a hang-up getting naked in front of strangers.

“It’s alright, sweetie.” Hannah must have sensed her apprehension, she took Rosalie’s hand and squeezed. “I’ve seen it all in my day. And you’re a good sight better than my usuals.”

“Really?”

“You’re one of the youngest clients I’ve ever had through, but I promise you have nothing I haven’t seen before.” The woman smiled, “You’re not in Heat yet, are you?”

“Er, no.” Rosalie shook her head. “Soon, though.”

“I thought so, you smell like … Christmas.” A knowing look. “I know that’s not perfume.” 

“Christmas?”

“I’ve always associated cinnamon and cloves with Christmas. And my grandmother always smelled like cinnamon and cloves when I was little.”

“Oh. Well, I guess it’s … kind of an Omega thing, then. I thought it was just me.”

“No, it’s not just you. The touch of honey _is _unique, though, it’s nice.” Hannah said as she helped Rosalie disrobe.

“Oh my goodness, you’re so _tan_! It’s December! Why are you so _tan_!” Hannah exclaimed, “And it’s so _even_!”

“I lived in Phoenix, Arizona, until a month ago.”

“Well, that would definitely explain the tan, but not the decided lack of tan-lines!” Hannah looked up at Rosalie from where she knelt by her left foot. “I don’t have much work to do with you, my dear!”

“Really?”

“How much are you comfortable getting rid of?”

“I … don’t know. I’ve never done this before.” Rosalie swallowed on a dry throat. “You know more than I do, what would you suggest?”

“Well, your body-hair is minimal, it wouldn’t take much to get rid of _that_. I would definitely suggest doing something here.” A touch to Rosalie’s pubic area. “Trust me, there’s nothing like it when you’re suffering through a Heat.”

“H-how much would you get rid of?” Rosalie asked. “Does it hurt that much?”

“It does hurt quite a bit, I won’t lie to you.” Hannah smiled and patted her on the thigh. “Let’s get started and we’ll figure out the rest as it comes to us.”

“Okay.”

“Lay down on your back, and get comfortable, my dear,” Hannah said as she got to her feet. She helped Rosalie onto the table and covered her with a soft, warm blanket that covered her from the neck down. Then she dimmed the lights a bit and turned up the volume on the music that had been playing in the background the whole time she and Rosalie had been chatting.

“Just relax, and let me work my magic,” Hannah said softly. Rosalie just nodded and closed her eyes.

Hannah knew what she was doing and how to keep her clients relaxed and comfortable, and Rosalie had to admit that it was one of the most painless waxing experiences she’d ever had. The only real moment of hesitation was when Hannah started the more in-depth, extensive waxing. The process of waxing Rosalie’s arms, legs, and underarms wasn’t _that _bad, but when they got to her groin, she grabbed Hannah by the arm.

“It’s alright, sweetie.” Hannah soothed, “Let me put you where I want you and trust me.”

“Okay.” Rosalie would be damned if she whined.

“If you want to hold onto to me, you can hold onto my pocket.”

“Okay.” Rosalie was down to monosyllabic responses, but that was okay. Hannah wouldn’t judge her. Taking hold of Hannah’s pocket and hanging on tight, Rosalie let the woman do her work. The pre-wax oil was smooth and smelled like tea-tree oil; unless that was actually Hannah’s Beta-scent and not the oil. Rosalie had been using the technician’s unfamiliar but soothing scent to keep herself calm, and it seemed to be working.

They went for what was called a Brazilian, basically all but a small patch of hair left on top and everything else front and back was removed. It was embarrassing and a little demeaning for Rosalie, but Hannah was a professional. As Hannah had promised, she really did know how to do it without inflicting too much unnecessary discomfort on her clients. When they were done, Rosalie felt very exposed, but also very _clean_. She hadn’t expected that.

“You look gorgeous! I’m only jealous I won’t get to see the final reveal!” Hannah said as she handed Rosalie over to the head beautician.

“I’ll take pictures.” She promised as she headed off to her next treatment.

The next stop was a spa ritual that began with a foot-bath of something called Precious Egyptian Milk and lasted a full hour and a half. Rosalie was scrubbed, oiled, massaged, and wrapped until she almost fell asleep. After being waxed, scrubbed, oiled, massaged, and wrapped to within an inch of her high-desert tomboy life by top-class professionals, Rosalie was finally handed over to the last stylists who would be handling her needs. First, she spent time in a comfy recliner for yet another foot-bath/foot-massage and pedicure. Rosalie settled on a dark red polish for the pedicure and shiny black for the manicure that followed. Another beautician specially trained in makeup artistry did her makeup, staying neutral and natural at Rosalie and Miss Adler’s request: skin-tone foundation and blush, but going bold with eyes and lips. A shade of red to match her pedicure, and a very subtle silver smoky-eye that contrasted beautifully with her eye-colour. She had never been so pampered, or so spoiled, and wondered if this was something she could get used to as Miss Adler’s Omega.

And then the last stop of her very busy, tiring afternoon: hair. Rosalie was introduced to a very friendly Omega male who introduced himself as Robbie. Her hair had already been washed, at least twice by this point, so all they really had to do was use a spray-bottle of water and product to manage it for styling. If Robbie could manage the _length _of Rosalie’s hair, it was twenty inches in length and naturally wavy. She usually kept it in various updo styles, using ponytails, half-updo styles, braids, and buns to manage her mane.

“Oh, darling, you have the most _gorgeous _hair!” He gushed, circling her closely and touching her unusual hair. “It’s so _beautiful_! I just love the colour you have going on!” The outpouring kind of surprised Rosalie, most people weren’t so enthusiastic about her hair.

“Really?”

“Absolutely! The colour is gorgeous and your hair is so healthy for being so long!”

“Most people aren’t that nice about my hair.” She made a face at the mirror. “I think I’ve cut my hair shorter than mid-back maybe once?”

“Oh no, no cutting! I’m not letting you get rid of anymore length than those ends!” He said as he stood behind her. “And I will retouch your colour for you when it needs some loving!”

“If you want to, I’m not going to stop you!” Rosalie was amazed by Robbie’s eagerness, most people who dealt with her hair dreaded it.

“So, what _are _we doing with your hair, my love?” Robbie inquired. Rosalie knew exactly what she wanted and showed Robbie.

“It’s kind of complicated, but I love the way this looks. I can do French braids and pull-through braids on my own,” Rosalie explained, “but nothing fancier than that.”

“Let me see.” He seemed rather keen to see exactly what Rosalie had in mind. She handed over her phone, which showed a picture of a mohawk braid with two French braids on either side of a centre braid that transitioned from a French braid to a fishtail braid about halfway. It had a very rugged but refined feel to it and reminded her of the kind of hairstyles she had seen in Viking period pieces on television. Robbie took one look at the picture and almost squealed.

“Oh, yes! I love it!” He actually clapped his hands. “This is going to be fun!”

“I apologize to your hands and finger-joints, you’re going to be a little sore by the time we’re done,” Rosalie said cheerfully.

“Oh, darling, my hands are used to the labour.” He cooed, “Your Alpha is the luckiest person in London tonight!”

“I think I’m the lucky one, Robbie, but maybe we’re both lucky.” Rosalie wondered what had become of Miss Adler, she hadn’t seen her Alpha since they’d arrived. So, armed with a baffling array of brushes, combs, and styling-products, Robbie got to work.

The first step was a trim to clean up split-ends and shape around her face a bit. Next, a texturizing iron was used on her hair from scalp to ends, followed by careful brushing of the same. This added volume and texture to make it more manageable. Robbie applied a layer of hairspray all over and began the work of parting her hair into sections for braiding. A curved rectangular top section was parted and clipped aside, followed by two side sections on each side from the front hairline to the back and one section in the back down to the nape. Each section was parted and clipped or tied up out of the way. First, Robbie French braided the side sections, which he clipped aside once they were done. Then the hard work began. The top section was braided to the back of Rosalie’s head where the side braids were unclipped and integrated and then continued until they ran out of hair to add. At _that _point, Robbie started fishtailing the lower portion of the braid. The whole time, he kept Rosalie engaged in conversation.

An hour after she sat down at his station, Robbie declared they had reached the end.

“The end of the braid and the end of your visit!” He said. “You can look now, my love!”

“Oh, wow!” Rosalie looked at her reflection in the mirror. “Robbie, wow!”

“Some of my finest work!” He said proudly, spinning the chair and giving her a hand mirror so she could see the back.

“You … you did it!” She smiled, turning her head to get a good look at the whole thing. It looked just like the picture she had shown Robbie, but completely different because her hair was dyed two different colours and the model had naturally dark hair. The end result was a Mohawk braid that gave the effect of the radical hairstyle without committing to shaving up the sides and the maintenance that was involved in the upkeep.

After a final layer of hairspray had been applied and any fly-aways managed, Robbie removed the all-purpose cape that had protected her clothes during the process.  
“You look fabulous, darling! Just fabulous!”

“Robbie, you worked a miracle! It looks amazing!” She got to her feet and hugged Robbie. “Oh my god, thank you so much!”

“You were the most fun I’ve had in _ages_, Rosie,” Robbie said softly as he held her tight. “I hope Miss Adler knows just how _lucky _she is.”

“I’m the lucky one, Robbie. For the longest time, I thought I was a Null because I never Presented when the rest of my age-mates did.” She shook her head and nuzzled under his chin. The smell of him was nearly as intoxicating as Miss Adler’s, but differently. When he went very still, she froze.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, no! This is what we _do_, love! This is what we’re allowed to do!” He scolded, touching the side of her neck. “Our Alphas may not like it, but Omegas are allowed to scent each other before and during a Heat. It’s instinct.”

“I guess that’s true, isn’t it?” She smiled and pulled back to look at the dark-skinned stylist who had worked such magic with her hair. “I’ve never been allowed to follow my instincts until I moved back to London.”

“You’re a brilliant girl, Rosie.” He beamed, showing a slash of straight white teeth, “I hope you come back to see me again.”

“Don’t worry, Robbie, I’ll come back,” Rosalie said firmly, squeezing his hands. “You’re the only person I know who hasn’t just looked at me and started crying.”

“Take good care of yourself for me, Rosalie. Be careful in London, it’s not like Phoenix.”

“No, it’s not, and I’m actually okay with that.” She knew when Miss Adler appeared, even though she wasn’t facing her Alpha, and took a deep breath. “I guess I’ll see you around, then.”

“Absolutely, love!” Robbie wrinkled his nose. But before Rosalie could pull away, he gave a jump and grabbed Rosalie’s phone from her pocket.

“Oh, wait a minute! Wait! Selfie!” He threw an arm around her shoulders and snapped a couple of pictures of the two of them together. Rosalie just laughed at him and wondered if he had someone to go home to like she did.

“Bye, Robbie!” She called as she headed out the door behind Miss Adler, shrugging into her parka with a wave. Robbie blew her a kiss and wished her luck as the door swung shut behind them.

Kate waited by the car parked just down the way a bit and held the door for them when they appeared. Miss Adler got in behind Rosalie and directed Kate to Baker Street, it was time to take Rosalie home. Well, back to her brother’s house at any rate. It was a quiet, comfortable drive back to Baker Street, and Rosalie knew that her Heat was hard upon them. If not tonight, then tomorrow. And if it _did _happen tonight, well, she wasn’t going to complain.

* * *

* * *


	14. Privilege of Hazard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Watson sees and comprehends. He's so much more than a friendly Army doctor in fuzzy jumpers, but right now, he has more use for his gentler calling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is from John's POV. Enjoy! Oh, and a dirty little secret of Anthea's is revealed. Not sorry.

* * *

* * *

John Watson hadn’t seen Rosalie Grayson since the clever Omega teenager had left Baker Street several hours earlier with Greg Lestrade. Despite this, he knew she was in no danger. He had heard from two of his fellow Alphas regarding Rosalie’s whereabouts and wellbeing. It was interesting, intriguing news. And perhaps, a situation could be handled at the same time.

He just happened to look out the window right as a familiar white car pulled up at the kerb outside of Baker Street. 

“Well, Rosie’s home.” He mused, looking over his shoulder towards the kitchen. Sherlock was buried in his laptop and there was a thick stack of paperwork next to him. John just smiled a bit sadly, he knew what all of that was for.

“She is?” Well, that got Sherlock’s attention.

“Yep. Looks like her Alpha brought her home.” He narrowed his eyes. “Huh, Greg was right.”

“Is she alright?” Sherlock was at his shoulder in a heart-beat, looking out the window as the car’s driver appeared and opened the kerb-side passenger door. “Oh, wait a minute. Is that … ?”

“Irene Adler’s driver, Kate McAllister.”

“You know, Mycroft’s assistant is her cousin.”

“Really?”

“Well, that’s what they _tell _people.” Sherlock leaned over his shoulder and narrowed his eyes. “Wouldn’t do to have the assistants of two of London’s most influential people be siblings, now would it?”

“You’re joking.” John looked over at Sherlock, wondering if laughter would be inappropriate. Sherlock just looked right back at him.

“You’re serious?”He huffed, “They’re _sisters_?”

“Mm. Anthea is older by four years.”

“Well, the more you know!” He chuckled and they watched as the car’s two occupants emerged. The laughter died, and John almost choked.

“Oh my god.”

“Never say she can’t work a miracle.” Sherlock breathed as they both set eyes on Rosalie for the first time in uncounted hours. “What happened?”

“All Greg would say, all _Mycroft_ would say for that matter, was that Rosalie went to ask a few questions about the Mackenzie murders and ended up staying for the next six hours.”

“Is Irene Adler my little sister’s Alpha?”

“I have no idea. But, I think she is.” John sniffled and looked over at his Null partner. “You are not allowed to tell Rosalie she can’t have this. Not after that bullshit the Graysons pulled.”

“I had no intention of doing that.” Sherlock murmured as they watched Rosalie and Irene Adler stand by the car for a minute. He saw both of them look up at the windows and smirked when a question was asked by Rosalie and a response given by Irene.

“Well, this should be interesting.” He chuckled as Rosalie threw a desperate, anxious look up to the windows before deciding it was better to just do what her Alpha said. They listened as the door opened downstairs and two sets of footsteps on the stairs coming up to 221B. Rosalie’s scent had changed and he caught a whiff of myrrh undertone. Marked already? That was quick. But then he realized just what had happened. It was one of the first things he actually noticed when Rosalie took her coat off.

“_That’s_ new,” Sherlock whispered.

“I think I know why her neck’s been hurting the last couple of days.” John folded his arms across his chest as he studied the pair. “I’ll be damned, I didn’t think it was a real thing.”

“Rare thing, I think.” Sherlock shook his head and went to intercept the newly-met pair.

“Sherlock, darling, how are you?” Irene was pleasant and a bit flirty with Sherlock, but that was kind of normal for the two of them.

“Hello, Irene. Happy Christmas.” Sherlock kissed the back of Irene’s hand, giving her a charming smile.

“It might just be one!” Irene’s smile was genuine and soft as she looked over at Rosalie, who just smiled back. “I would apologize, but that would be lying.”

“No, no, don’t.” Sherlock held up one hand. “You might just have saved my sister a great deal of grief, Irene.”

“Oh, yes, I know. You’re not going to let the Graysons get away with any of that underhanded, criminal behaviour, are you?”

“No, ma’am. We have two different departments already working on digital trails and my brother is scouring every law we have ever written or passed.”

“You’d better tell him to look at the laws in the United States, too,” Rosalie said as she headed for the kitchen. “Tea?”

“Thanks, Rosie.” John followed her, “I’ll help.” That got him a bright, shy smile, and he left Sherlock and Irene to talk business.

“So, you found your Alpha.” He didn’t pose that as a question, he didn’t have to. Rosalie just nodded as she filled the kettle and handed it to him.

“I would suggest you declare yourselves as soon as possible.”

“After Christmas. Maybe Boxing Day, or the 27th.” Rosalie took a box of tea from one of the higher shelves, climbing up on the counter to reach it. He held her steady while she retrieved five cups as well.

“Five, Rosie?”

“Mary’s going to be home soon.”

“Oh, you smart thing.” He helped her down from the counter and found a tray for the cups while the water boiled. Rosalie busied herself with finding biscuits and putting a few of them on a small plate.

When the kettle went off, he dropped one bag into each cup and let Rosalie pour the water in. Collecting cream, honey, and lemons, he put the condiments on the tray as Rosalie arranged the cups and a stack of plates for the biscuits. She had also found five clean spoons, washed them by hand just to be extra sure, and put this down as well. John followed her out to the sitting-room, where he discovered Sherlock by the window with his violin tucked under his chin, and Irene seated on their couch. There was something pleasantly normal about this, which was not anything he would have expected where Irene Adler was concerned.

Just as Rosalie set the tray on the coffee table, he heard the street-door slam shut and smiled.

“I said you were smart, Rosie, I didn’t think you were _that _good.” He said with a chuckle as Rosalie gave the first cup to Irene and the second to him. Sherlock got the third and Rosalie had the fourth cup ready for Mary when she stepped through the door.

“Rosie! Hi, my love!” Mary shuffled out of her coat and snow-boots, kissing Rosalie on the cheek before trading her the tea for her coat. “Oh, you’ve been busy!”

“That’s one word for my afternoon, Mary!” Rosalie blushed as she hung up Mary’s coat and set her boots by the fireplace to dry off. “I found my Alpha!”

“That’s what Rebecca Turner told me! I couldn’t believe it!” Mary just smiled and looked over at Irene, “I don’t suppose you need a warning from me, Miss Adler?”

“No, but you’re free to give me one, Miss Morstan.” Irene raised her cup to Mary. “After all, you’re practically family to my Omega.”

“You know to take very good care with her, I don’t need to worry about that.” Mary sat down in John’s chair with a tired sigh. “You’ll treat her like a princess.”

“And she deserves no less.” Irene caught Rosalie by the hand and tugged her Omega to a halt, directing her to sit down.

From this angle, John could see Rosalie’s Soul Mark on the right side of her neck. A train of butterflies that trailed from behind her right ear down to a point near her throat, arranged into a curve down the side of her neck in a bold, bright slash of blue and black and yellow. Flashy, and yet … it was surprisingly subtle. It was also perfect for Rosalie. He wondered what sort of Soul Mark Irene might have, and studied the woman who had once been their greatest rival alongside Jim Moriarty. But, unlike Rosalie, any mark Adler might have possessed was concealed from view by her clothes. Today, she wore a curve-hugging bodycon dress with an open back and lace sleeves. It was very much Adler’s style, but irritatingly modest at the same time.

“You know I can hear you thinking, darling,” Adler said in an amused tone of voice.

“I’m a bloody open _book _to the likes of you and Sherlock, Irene.” John just gave her a charming smile. “But you’re nicer about it than he is. Most of the time.” That last was in response to a derisive snort and a soft “excuse you” from his Null partner.

“The answer to your question is yes.” Adler’s expression was sly and almost flirty. “However, you are going to have to ask very nicely if you want to see it any time soon.” 

“So you _do_ have one?” 

“I do have a Soul Mark tattoo, as does my Omega.” Her smile became soft. “I must say, Rosie has a very subtle tattoo but its location is not so subtle. Anyone who pays attention will know.” John looked at Sherlock and Mary, who wore identical expressions. It was painfully obvious that Rosalie had a Mate, but not who it was or even if they wanted her. To John and his partners, however, it was very obvious that Rosalie’s Alpha had every intention of taking her as a Mate and doing it properly. Time was not in their favour and they had to proceed with care, but it was a relief just knowing that Rosalie was no longer bound by that stupid, and very illegal, amendment. He wouldn’t be a bit surprised if Rosalie and Adler made it official on Boxing Day. Or sooner even. They would have to if they wanted to keep Rosalie out of trouble. But John wouldn’t worry about that again until he had a reason to. 

He didn’t miss how Adler only stayed long enough for tea before excusing herself. Rosalie busied herself by taking their empty cups back to the kitchen the wash-up.

“Sherlock, I want you and your partners to take the best of care with my Omega.” She said as Rosalie collected their coats. “Look after her for me while she’s on Baker Street.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Doctor Watson, you are one of her trusted Alphas.” Adler looked at John then, her expression severe. “Take care of her until she returns to me. Keep her safe. Keep her comfortable.” Adler looked at John then, her expression severe. John just nodded in concurrence.

“Yes, Miss Adler.”

“Thank you, Doctor Watson.” Having made her point and no longer interested in John or the other two beyond what they could offer in keeping Rosalie safe, Adler turned to Rosalie next. Her whole attitude went from stern to almost tender. It was an interesting change in dynamic to witness. 

“Rosalie, my love, I’ll see you in a few hours.” 

“Okay.” Rosalie’s smile was shy and uncertain. Rosalie, of course, followed her down to the street and saw her off when she took her leave of Baker Street. John watched from the windows, flanked by Sherlock.

Mary had taken the opportunity to sneak away, and disappeared towards the back bedroom en suite. John could hear the shower when it went on.

“You know, it’s been a bad day for all of us,” Sherlock said quietly as they watched Rosalie and Adler say their goodbyes. “Is there any _good _news?”

“Well, your little sister found her Alpha and we’re building a solid case against her adopted family for several charges.” John sniffled. “But that’s not the question you’re asking.”

“Am I that obvious?”

“When you feel like it, you absolutely can be.” John sighed and folded his arms across his chest.

“What about the Mackenzie twins?” Sherlock inquired in a low, concerned voice. “Has there been any word on their condition or family who can take them?” John had to smile, despite the situation, despite the answer he had to give in the negative.

“Yes, and no.” He sighed. 

“It can’t be both, John.”

“It can, and it is both.” He turned from the window and retreated to his chair to sit down. “The twins are both in excellent health, and they will be released from hospital no later than tomorrow morning. Despite the emotional trauma they suffered today.”

“What’s the “no”, then?” Sherlock followed him, more out of instinct than anything else. “Why tomorrow? Why not today?”

“They are still looking for family willing to take the twins. They haven’t been having much luck if any.”

“They don’t _have _family? Or they don’t have family willing to take them on.”

“The latter. Greg’s been on the phone nonstop trying to reach out to anyone related to the Mackenzies.” John sighed, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. “He’s had precious little success with either Sabrina’s family or Jacob’s.”

“It is so telling, and equally disappointing when the family will not step up to do their part. Whatever reasons they have, it is not good enough.” Sherlock’s expression darkened as he stood by the fireplace. “This is not the sort of Christmas the children deserve. Ever.”

“Mal’s been looking after them most of the day, I think.” He looked at the flames of the fire, feeling a sickness in his gut that had nothing to do with hormones. With Rosalie’s Heat coming, he was beginning to feel the start of Rut, but this was different.

“What is it, John?” 

“She’s just heartbroken that the only visitors Rosamund and Victor have had are the police and hospital staff.” 

“Are you serious?”

“Not a single family member has come to visit them.” He closed his eyes head and rested folded hands against his forehead, “They lost their parents this morning, they’re surrounded by strangers, and no one they know will come and see them.”

Sherlock was only still for another minute before suddenly, he was moving around. John listened to his flatmate muttering to himself as he wandered from the sitting-room to the kitchen to the back bedroom and came back to the sitting-room. 

“What are you doing?” He asked, not bothering to look up. 

“Get your coat, Watson.” That got his attention. Sherlock only ever called him “Watson” if it was really serious. Wondering what his erratic partner had in mind, John raised his head to find Sherlock shrugging into his Belstaff and searching for his gloves and scarf. Both were in his pockets,

“Are you going somewhere?”

“Back to the Mackenzie house.” Sherlock looked up at him, his eyes an odd shade of grey. “No child deserves to be forgotten at Christmas.”

“Give me a minute.” John got to his feet and fetched his coat. As they were getting ready to leave, Mary appeared in clean scrubs. 

“Off somewhere, boys?”

“The Mackenzie house,” Sherlock said he tugged on his gloves. “I noticed a rather lovely Christmas tree in their sitting-room. Where there is a Christmas tree, there are often presents.” 

“Are you back to the hospital, then, Mal?” John asked his wife, despite knowing damn well that’s where she was going. She had landed a double after offering to cover for another nurse who wanted to spend Christmas with family instead of other people’s families but didn’t mind the extra work. 

“I’m covering for Rebecca Turner so she can be with her family.” 

“Which was a very nice thing for you to do.” Sherlock smiled at Mary. “Would I be wrong to assume that among your other duties, you’ll be keeping the Mackenzie twins company?”

“Of course I am!” Mary smirked, “What do you think I’ve been doing all day?”

“We’ll get you a cab.” John just smiled as he held the door for his spice. 

Going downstairs, Sherlock hailed a cab for Mary while John went to check on Rosalie and tell her they were going out again. 

“For the Mackenzie case?” She asked, despite knowing damn well where they were going. There was realistically only one thing they would be leaving the house for right now.

“Something’s come up and we’re going out to see what we can do for it.”

“Good luck.” Rosalie just smiled at him, “And keep an eye out for Travis Mackenzie while you’re out there.”

“We’ll be alright.” He hugged her tightly, not missing how her scent had changed just that small bit. “Have a good night, Rosie, I get the feeling you’ll be long gone by the time we get back.”

“If I am gone, you’ll know why and where and who.”

“Yep. Good luck, kiddo.” John smiled and left her to wait until her evening properly got underway. At least one of them could look forward to a decently happy Christmas Eve.

When he got to the street, there was no sign of Sherlock _or _Mary. But he had a pretty good idea where Sherlock had gone and went back inside to let Mrs Hudson know they were off on business. Again. 

“Still on that case you took this morning, John?” Their landlady asked with a decent amount of concern, “You’ve been working all day on it!”

“Yes, Mrs Hudson, still on the case we took this morning.” He adjusted the cuffs of his coat and made a face. “We have a few stops to make, and I think Sherlock had a specific question to ask Greg.”

“Well, good luck, boys.” She looked properly stern. “Want me to keep an eye on Rosalie for you?”

“If you wouldn’t mind, Mrs Hudson, that would be very helpful. Someone will be along to pick her up at 8.00, but all you need to do is let them in, everything else will be handled.” 

“I thought I saw Miss Adler’s car outside.” 

“You did see Miss Adler’s car outside, Mrs Hudson.” John just smiled as a horn sounded at the kerb. “It’s an interesting bit of a story, that.”

“Did Rosalie find her Alpha, then?” There was something hopeful in their landlady’s inquiry and John simply nodded. “Oh, I’m so happy! I do worry about that girl sometimes, you know.”

“She’s a Holmes, Mrs Hudson, you’re well within every right to worry about Rosalie Grayson.” He said with a laugh. “I’d better go before Sherlock comes looking for me.”

“Do be careful out there.”

“We always are.” He promised.

“No, you’re not. You’re reckless.” Mrs Hudson scolded as she pushed him out the door. “Just _try _to stay out of trouble? Please?”

“We’ll do our best, Mrs Hudson! Happy Christmas!” He said as he headed across the footpath to the waiting car. Mrs Hudson just waved as he traded places with Sherlock and watched until they were out of sight before going back inside.

“Convincing Mrs Hduson that we know what we’re doing?” Sherlock inquired with a knowing smile. 

“You know why she doesn’t believe us.”

“Can you _blame _her for being so doubtful?” An eyebrow went up as they waited at a traffic signal.

“Considering our record of incidents during an active case? No.” He rolled his eyes, “I would worry about us if I was Mrs Hudson.”

The drive from Baker Street to Hoxton took thirty minutes, during which time Sherlock filled John in on his plans. It was exactly what John had suspected: Sherlock was determined to salvage Christmas for Rosamund and Victor Mackenzie. Whatever he had to do, it would be done. That required recovering any presents from the Mackenzie house and talking to Greg Lestrade. Among other necessary actions, but it was definitely at the top of the list.

“Why do you need Greg?” John inquired as they made the final turn into the Mackenzie’s neighbourhood.

“I need to ask him a question about the Mackenzie twins.”

“Important enough you wanted to ask him in person?”

“Of the utmost importance.” Sherlock just looked at him briefly. This had been a rather unpleasant Christmas Eve, but John had certainly seen worse. Maybe there was still a chance to salvage it. Later, they had work to do right now.

Parking behind a marked IRV, John set the brakes and got out. It was quiet on the street. Not peaceful, but quiet. The primary tape-lines had been pulled down hours ago, but the line sealing off the house was still in place. They greeted the constable on duty at the line, who had enough sense not to look terribly surprised to see them. 

“Mr Holmes. Doctor Watson.”

“Constable Mitchell.” John gave the lad a kind smile. “Is Lestrade around?”

“Inside, sir.” Mitchell pointed towards the house, letting Sherlock through at the same time “Can’t say he was expecting you back, though.”

“Anymore than we were expecting _him _back, it seems.” John had to give Greg credit where due for his dedication to a case. 

“Happy Christmas, Doctor Watson,” Mitchell said quietly as John went after Sherlock. 

“We wouldn’t be here if it was truly a happy Christmas, Mitchell.” He sighed. “But maybe we can salvage what’s left of it.” 

“Yes, sir.” Mitchell looked sadly at the house he had been at since who knew when. John patted him on the shoulder and headed inside. He found Sherlock chatting with Greg in the entryway and stood by quietly. 

“I don’t know how much say I have, Sherlock,” Greg said, raking one hand through his hair. “I mean, I can _ask_.”

“That’s all I can reasonably expect you to do, Lestrade.”

“Getting your brother involved may not be such a bad idea.” The hand-gesture turned into a shrug, and John saw a slight tilt of a smile. “He’s better at intimidating people into doing his bidding than I am.”

“Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself.” Sherlock scolded. “You are just as good at it as Mycroft. Maybe better.”

“Better?”

“You have far more empathy than my brother does, and that will take you a long way in getting a witness or a suspect to talk,” Sherlock said, looking towards the sitting-room. Even from here, John could just see the glow of the fairy-lights wrapped around the tree. And beneath the tree, a small pile of presents. That’s what they were here for. 

“Well, don’t expect any miracles, Sherlock,” Greg said grimly. “I’ll do what I can.”

“That’s all we can ask of you.”

“In the meantime, if you want to pack up the presents with the twins’ names on the tags.”

“Absolutely.” 

“After you.” Greg turned and let them go past him, following them into the room beyond. While John sorted presents, isolating those for the twins and putting them into a bag Sherlock had brought just for this purpose, Greg and Sherlock continued to talk. He was aware of phone calls being made and tense conversations being had. Greg hit the expected roadblocks with authorities on his end, but eventually got a Police Protection Order filed. With the PPO on file, the twins could stay on at Baker Street at least until pre-proceedings could be started on a Care Order. John knew a Care Order would be necessary if the family was unable or unwilling to take the twins. For their safety, it was important to make sure Travis Mackenzie could never get his hands on them.

“The kids won’t be coming back to this house, will they?” John asked as he loaded the bag of gifts into the boot of his car.

“I don’t imagine they would have any reason to.” Greg looked back at the house. “If you’re taking them on for any time, you might want to pack out a few things for them.”

“That’s what I was thinking. They’ll be in a strange bed, at the very least, anything familiar to them will be comforting.”

“Go on.” Greg just nodded and he made his way back to the house. Finding a few suitcases, he filled one with clothes and necessities and the other was filled with toys, books, and bedding. As he moved the suitcases out to his car, he caught sight of a familiar black car. A moving van was in tow behind Mycroft’s car, and John leaned against the bumper of _his _car to watch.

“That was quick.” He muttered.

Mycroft appeared in short order, Anthea at his side as always. The moving crew were shown to the proper bedroom, and orders were given to pack out the twins’ bedroom and toys. Most of it would go into storage until permanent arrangements were made. John took two boxes full of clothes and toys for Baker Street. It was a precaution. They weren’t sure how long the twins would be at Baker Street, but it was better to be over-prepared than under-prepared.

With his bit done, John left Sherlock to discuss the specifics with Greg and Mycroft. Returning to Baker Street, he tucked the presents for Rosamund and Victor under the tree in their sitting-room. John stacked the suitcases and boxes outside of the second upstairs bedroom. It was currently used for storage, but clearing it out to use for the twins would be simple enough. Hearing voices downstairs, he went down to B and found the brothers had returned. The movers were waiting outside for orders on where to take their load.

“Have your people clear out the second bedroom.” He said to Mycroft. “We’ll give the twins that room.”

“Of course, Doctor Watson.” Mycroft was properly grim. “It is very generous of you to offer your home to Rosamund and Victor Mackenzie.”

“I’d like to give them a permanent home at Baker Street, but I’m not sure if that’s possible.” He looked out the window and saw another car pull up behind the truck and Mycroft’s car. “Oh, is it 8.00?”

“Just now.” Sherlock looked at his watch. “Why?”

“Irene’s here.” He smiled and waved when Adler looked up at the windows of 221B. She waved back and a moment later, there was a knock at the door. John went downstairs, leaving the brothers to direct the movers, and retrieved Rosalie from C.

“Your ride’s here, sweetie.” He looked her over and smiled, “Are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” She looked at him, shy and uncertain of herself. “Is this really happening?”

“This is really happening, I promise.” He gave her a tight hug and kissed her on the cheek. “This is the beginning of your future, Rosalie, don’t be afraid of it.”

“Don’t listen to the nasty voice in my head that sounds like my foster-brother?”

“Please, for the love of God, don’t listen.” John shook his head shortly. If he never set eyes on that little prick, it wouldn’t be soon enough. He was just one in a long line of people who wanted a go at Orlando Garza for all of the awful, unspeakable things he had done to Rosalie Grayson.

Taking Rosalie upstairs, he handed her off to Adler at the front door.

“Rosalie?”

“Yeah?” She turned from the car when he called her back. He just smiled.

“I’m glad you have an Alpha willing to do whatever necessary to protect you tonight.”

“Why?”

“Because if you were my daughter, there’s no _way _you’d leave the house wearing that dress!” John had not missed the fact that Rosalie was wearing a dress that covered very little. Every single one of her tattoos was on display. As was a _bit _more bare skin than he thought was proper.

“Why do you think I _bought _it?” She shot back with a cheeky grin. John snorted and shook his head.

“Miss Adler, I wish you all the luck in the world!” He called, “Your Omega is quite sassy!”

“Oh, don’t worry, Doctor Watson,” Adler promised, “I can certainly handle my Omega.”

“Have a good night!” He said as Adler followed Rosalie into the car. Her driver closed the door before getting into the front seat and John watched until they were out of sight.

“Good luck, Rosalie.” He whispered. “Happy birthday, my love.”

* * *

* * *


	15. Figures of Luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having found her Omega after waiting thirty years, which might seem a lifetime, Irene Adler finds herself in an interesting situation. Not necessarily unpleasant, but certainly unexpected. After all, how many people can say that they are lucky enough to be the Mate of the Holmes Omega? But, what does Jim Moriarty have to do with anything?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Split POV between Irene and Jim. Enjoy!

* * *

* * *

Irene Adler was rarely taken by surprise. At the moment, however, she had a very _interesting _problem. She had just left 221B Baker Street, and her thoughts were … preoccupied. All senses were confused. Taking a deep breath helped Irene re-centre herself. But it also reminded her of what she had just left behind. Or, more importantly, _who _she had left behind.

For thirty years, Irene had lived with a constant reminder. A stranger had told her that somewhere in the great, wide, crazy world, she had an Omega. All she had was a last name: Holmes. Not a first name, just a last name. And with no way of knowing if the mad old Beta had been rambling, she bided her time. Her mother had told her not to listen to people like that, but Irene had never forgotten. And now, well, she had just proven her mother wrong and that crazy old Beta right.

Rosalie Grayson was a Holmes in everything but name, that was a regrettable chapter of history. But Irene was in a position of power to set a number of wrongs to rights and provide the youngest Holmes with everything she deserved. And she would. But, she had to make a phone call before she forgot. There was someone she wanted to tell, someone she had to talk to. Retrieving her phone, she blind-dialled a particular number and waited for it to ring through. The phone rang so many times she thought he was either away, or ignoring her. It could be either one with him. Then, finally, the line clicked. 

_“Are we having Christmas phone calls now, dear sister?”_ He said as a greeting, _“Has Iceman Holmes passed a new law while we weren’t paying attention?” _Irene just smiled to herself. No, no new laws had been passed, especially none by Mycroft Holmes. He hadproven himself rather useful today, but Irene hadn’t called her brother to talk about Rosalie’s elder brother. She had a rather different subject to discuss with him. This would be a fun little conversation.

* * *

What had been an otherwise quiet Christmas Eve was interrupted by a phone call. Knowing there were only a few people who would bother calling him on a day like this, Jim Moriarty checked the number before he answered. 

“You might want to take that, Boss.” Seb Moran said placidly, not looking up from what he was doing. “She’ll just keep calling until you answer.” Of course, Seb knew his sister’s ring-tone. Jim considered sticking his tongue out, settled for flipping his lieutenant off instead. 

“Love you, too, Boss.” Seb just smiled as he answered the incoming call before it went to voicemail.

_“Are we having Christmas phone calls now, dear sister?”_ He said as a greeting, _“Has Iceman Holmes passed a new law while we weren’t paying attention?”_

_“Oh, Jimmy, love, you didn't tell me she was so shy!”_ Jim had to hold the phone away from his ear a bit.

_“Who’s what?”_ He blinked, squinting at the volume his sister was speaking at. She was clearly excited about something. 

_“Rosalie Grayson!”_ Came the excited reply. _“She’s just absolutely delightful!”_

_“What about Rosalie Grayson?”_ Jim asked. It wasn’t that he had misheard his sister, he was just trying to understand what the charming young Omega had to do with anything.

_“Oh, that’s not the question you want to ask me!”_

_“I’m dying to know how she crossed your radar, sister dearest.”_ He amended, _“You haven’t been this excited in quite a while.”_

_“Did you know she works for The Met, as and whenever they need her assistance?”_

_“I’m aware.”_ Jim smiled, leaning back in his chair. _“Is that how she came to your attention?”_

_“Oh, yes, but the way you carry on about her! I expected another version of you for all the nonstop chatter!”_ There was a tone of scolding in Irene’s voice and Jim raised an eyebrow. _“You never said anything about how shy she really is! Such a quiet thing!”_

_“Are we talking about the same person?”_ He had to ask. Rosalie Grayson was anything except shy and quiet. Those words did not describe the girl Jim knew. The Rosalie Grayson _he _knew was feisty, opinionated, and wasn’t afraid to stand up for herself. 

_“Oh, don’t be boring, big brother!”_ Irene said dismissively. _“Don’t you remember what that Beta told me when I was five?”_

_“About your Omega?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“And how you would find them and know them by their name.”_

_“Do you remember that name?”_

_“I remember Mum pulled you away before you got a first name, but you did get a last name.” _Jim looked over at Seb, who was doing a poor job of looking entirely uninterested. Was this really going where he thought it was?

_“What name was it? Do you remember?”_

_“Holmes.”_ Jim frowned. _“The Holmes Omega was yours.”_

_“Of course, it wasn’t Sherlock or Mycroft. And it wasn’t their sweet little brother Q, either.”_ There was a note of wistfulness in her tone. _“Which really was a shame, he was the only Omega in the family. Such a sweet, gifted boy.” _

_“Until Rosalie Grayson arrived in London and upset the balance at Baker Street.”_ Jim was beginning to understand. 

He still remembered the day Seb had brought home an angry, belligerent Rosalie Grayson to the Oxshott compound. Fresh out of a scrap with a couple of his less-intelligent thugs, blunt to the point of insolence, and unafraid to speak her mind. Jim had fallen in love with her almost right off the bat. It was hard _not _to, it was so rare to encounter such a refreshing personality. And Rosalie was _nothing _like the rest of her siblings. Befriending the Holmes Omega had been a simple matter of giving her a safe-haven in her time of need and putting her comfort and safety first. Treating her like a human being had worked miracles and Jim had discovered a kindred soul in Sherlock’s baby sister. 

_“Riene?”_

_“Yes, love?”_

_“It’s Rosalie, isn’t it?”_ Jim selfishly crossed his fingers. _“It’s my girl, isn’t it? Tell me it’s her.”_

_“It is Rosalie Grayson.”_ He heard a soft chuckle. _“Your clever little Omega belongs to your sister.”_

_“You do know it’s her birthday, yes?”_

_“Yes, I am well aware. There has been a development regarding her status, that I have every intention of solving for her.” _

_“What happened this time?”_ Jim felt a tingle of dread in his gut. _“Who was it?”_

_“Her adopted family. The Graysons.” _

_“What did they do to her?”_ Jim asked, his voice hard now. Aware of the shift in conversation, Seb raised his head and looked across at Jim. He just held up one finger to his lieutenant. 

_“They tampered with her application for emancipation.” _

_“How?”_

_“Someone hacked into the digital files and added an amendment.”_ There was a venom in his sister’s voice Jim hadn’t heard in ages. _“There’s a consensus among her Alphas that this was done after the fact by a computer-savvy member of the Grayson family.”_

_“What was the amendment?”_ He practically growled, prepared to do whatever was necessary to ensure Rosalie’s future and continuing happiness. 

_“To be granted emancipation, she must marry.” _

_“What was the time-limit?” _

_“A month after her application was accepted.”_

_“Not if we can help it!”_ Jim snarled, absolutely livid at the news.

_“She was, as I am certain you’re aware, emancipated on November 17th.” _

_ “This cannot and will not stand!” _

_“Don’t worry, sweet brother, Mycroft Holmes and Greg Lestrade have both put their people on this,” _Irene said calmly.

_“Rosalie deserves better than this.” _He said. “_We will see to it that the Graysons don’t get what they want.” _

_“And I have an idea or two for giving Rosalie exactly what she needs.”_ Irene had that tone of voice that spoke of some devious plan in motion. Jim was on his feet, pacing the room. He didn’t remember getting up, but he clearly had. 

_“I know exactly what to do.” _He mused._ “Save your Omega, we’ll take care of the Graysons.”_

_“I have every intention of doing more than that, dear brother.” _Irene made a dismissive sound._ “I’ll be in touch!”_

_“I know you will.”_ Jim huffed, letting his sister hang up first. 

Across the room from him, Seb was already at work. He had set aside his rifle for his laptop and was getting into the databases necessary to access the data. It did not escape Jim’s notice that they were now the only two people in the room. The guards and personnel had quietly disappeared at a signal from Seb when things turned for the worse. 

“Seb?” He inquired in a deceptively calm voice.

“I heard the whole thing, Boss.” His lieutenant glanced up at him. “We’ll get to the bottom of this mess.”

“Too bad there’s so many of them,” Jim muttered. With her foster-brother, it was fairly simple. There was just one of him. With the Graysons, it was a bit more difficult because there were far more of them. And without names, he had nothing to go on. It was so frustrating.

“Never took you for a humanitarian, Boss.” 

“I’m _not_.” He clenched and unclenched his hand, “I just happen to be disgustingly fond of Rosalie Grayson.”

“Hard not to be fond of her. She’s one of a kind.” Seb just smiled at him. “Y’know, you’ll be in-laws to the Holmeses by the New Year.”

“Funny thing, that.” Jim snorted. He didn’t mind being in-laws to some of the smartest men in the country, even if he couldn’t say the same for them. He would never assume friendship with Sherlock, and certainly not with Mycroft, but there was no written rule that you had to befriend your relatives. He could certainly be civil with them, that was simple enough.

For the moment, however, he had other problems to look after. But Jim suspected that with so many people on the same task, it wouldn’t take long at all to find the culprit. Bringing the individual in question to justice might be a bit harder, but not impossible. First, they would get the name of the Grayson responsible, and then appropriate action could be taken. There were several ways to make someone suffer, it all depended on the crimes of the guilty.

“You alright, Boss?” Seb inquired carefully, “You’ve been awfully twitchy the last couple of days.”

“I’m not twitchy.” He snapped. “I’m _fine_.” Most people Jim knew would apologize, or flinch. Seb did neither. 

“**Jim**.” An itch across his skin was a warning. 

“I’m fine, Seb.” He said petulantly. "It's nothing."

“This isn’t nothing.” Seb’s voice was low, gruff. “Do you need me for anything?” Jim sighed and looked at his lieutenant. What could he possibly say that Seb would believe him? Or that didn’t sound like a flimsy excuse for not taking better care of himself?

Seb looked at him carefully, taking in what was immediately visible, and a few things that weren’t. Unless you knew how to look for them. 

“You forgot your suppressant, didn’t you?” It wasn’t an accusation. Jim peevishly refused to answer. So what if he had?

“I knew there was somethin’ a little off about you, Boss.” Seb got up from his seat, doing something on his phone. “Didn’t think it was this serious, though. Can’t leave you alone for five minutes, can I?”

“Last time you did that, I faked my own death for three years.”

“So did Sherlock Holmes.” Seb gave him a look. “Now, come on, you.”

“Or else, what?”

“I’ll make you.” Seb just held out one hand to him, reminding Jim once again that he couldn’t have wished for a more capable man to be his Alpha. 

“As badly as I’d love to play, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” Jim just grinned and took Seb’s hand in his, following his lieutenant upstairs to his bedroom. 

Everything was ready in anticipation of his Heat, on the slim chance he went forgot his suppressant like an idiot. 

“Strip, shower, bed,” Seb said calmly, locking the door of the bedroom as he continued tapping away at his phone. Jim simply did as instructed. Once he had followed Seb’s instructions, he was ushered to bed and told to get comfortable.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got the lads hard at work on the Graysons.” Seb squeezed his hand tightly, “We’ll have a name in no time.”

“Who said I was worried?” He raised an eyebrow in challenge. Seb just rolled his eyes and snorted. Who indeed?

“I know how that brain works, Jim.” His Alpha said sternly. “I didn’t get this far without learning a few things about you.”

“You know, replacing you wouldn’t be impossible,” Jim muttered, burrowing under the blankets piled up on top of the mattress.

“Yeah, love you too, Boss.” Seb chuckled. “Can you stay out of trouble for five minutes so I can take a shower?”

“I promise nothing.” He said petulantly. Seb just pulled the blankets back and kissed the back of his neck. 

“Rest up, Boss.” His lieutenant said softly. “I’ll be back in a bit.” Jim grunted and settled into his little nest, listening to the water run and breathing deeply of Seb’s familiar scent. He might have forgotten his suppressant, but he didn’t mind a break from his normal routine. Or spending more time with Seb. After all, one week a month or every quarter was predictable time off.

It would be very nice not to worry about anything for a while, to leave other people in charge. They may not be as efficient or skilled, but they could do their jobs well enough when pressed. And he could stop worrying about Rosalie Grayson, at least regarding her status as an unmated Omega. Her adopted family was proving to be a rather unpleasant problem, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. But that could wait, he had other things to spend his time and focus on right now.

* * *

* * *


	16. Element Of Lust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosalie enjoys what's left of her birthday and settles into her new role as a Bonded Omega. A few important changes are made and certain arrangements are undertaken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Irene has a cat. And that cat's name is Nedjem. Nedjem is of debatable ethnic origin (some say Arabic, some say Egyptian), and means either "Star" or "Sweet, Sweetie". Links at end of chapter.

* * *

* * *

Rosalie wasn’t sure exactly what she had expected, but ending her Christmas Eve in a stranger’s bed was not quite it. Not that she was complaining, of course. Her whole evening had been planned out by Irene Adler, and it had been worth the effort. What had started as an interview had turned into something very different. Rosalie had expected to ask a few questions, get a few answers, and report back to Greg Lestrade. Then she had expected to retreat to Baker Street for her impending Heat. Instead, she was laying in a massive king-size bed in the master-suite of Adler’s Hampstead house.

At the moment, she was alone in the bed and buried under several layers of blankets and soft pillows. She heard a door open somewhere and stirred. She didn’t dare move more than to shift on the mattress. A soft chuckle followed a wave of her Alpha’s familiar scent and she was aware of the mattress sinking under Miss Adler’s weight. 

“Are you back among the living, my darling?” Miss Adler inquired, tugging the blankets so she could touch Rosalie’s back. Rosalie made a disgruntled noise and sought out the nearest source of warmth as the cool air hit exposed skin. 

“Hmm. Affectionate little thing, aren’t you?” Familiar fingers stroked through Rosalie’s hair and along her neck and shoulders as she snuggled into the warm curves of her Alpha’s body.

“Is that bad, Alpha?”

“Absolutely not, my Omega.” That heady frisson tingled along her skin and Rosalie buried her nose in the nearest bit of damp, bare skin. She was still getting used to having control over her body and her decisions. 

A throb deep in her core distracted her and she whined, digging her fingers into soft flesh. 

“Ah. Easy, my dearest.” Adler cooed, “What would you like me to do?” Rosalie raised her head and looked up at her Alpha. 

“Mate.” She hated how needy she sounded, but she knew asking would get her what her body was craving.

“What is it, my love?”

“Knot, Alpha. Mate me.” She pleaded softly, squirming as the throbbing grew stronger. 

“Is that what you want of me, Rosalie Grayson?”

“Mate me, Alpha.” Rosalie moan, rutting against her Alpha’s thigh. “Please, I need it.” 

“Of course, dearest.” Adler smiled and turned Rosalie onto her back. “It would be my absolute pleasure.” 

It started as the first round had, and all Rosalie could do was bite her tongue and hold her Alpha tight. There was caressing, licking, little love-bites, and Adler eating Rosalie out like her life depended on it. It left Rosalie a whimpering, trembling, sweat-and-slick damp mess. 

“Hold onto me, my love,” Adler whispered hoarsely as she prepared to push her knot home. Rosalie relaxed her trembling muscles and tightened her grip on her Alpha. Her first proper sexual encounter had been absolutely amazing, Miss Adler had taken such good care of her. For someone who’s only previous experiences had been violent and non-consensual, she now knew what a fully consensual, intimate encounter should be like. She made a strangled noise in her throat when she felt the pressure of her Alpha’s knot as it pushed against the walls of her cervix.

With a slick pop, they were joined in the most intimate of ways. Rosalie gasped, breath stuttering as a strange wet warmth filled her. She knew what it was, but she had never been knotted during the process. Thankfully, Orlando had never tried to knot her during the several encounters during which he had raped her. He either didn’t know how to or figured the trauma of rape was humiliating enough, that he could use that as blackmail if he wanted. But Rosalie wasn’t thinking of her despicable foster-brother right now. She couldn’t think of anything else but her Alpha and the fullness that reminded her she was no longer alone, unwanted. She had an Alpha, who wanted her and more than that wanted to Mate her. They would get married properly later, of course, but the important steps had been made. The next logical step was to file for a Marriage Bond Contingency Order. They would worry about that later. Right now, she had far better things to concern herself with. 

An hour later, Rosalie found herself submerged in a hot bath with her Alpha, who took every care washing her skin and her hair for her after their intimacies. She was distracted from her relaxed state of mind when a flicker of movement by the door caught her attention. She couldn’t see very well from her current position, but Rosalie was no stranger to private-time interruptions by inquisitive pets. A glimpse of fur was all the proof she needed. The colour was wrong for Madeline, who was back on Baker Street with Mrs Hudson, and she raised an eyebrow. 

“What is it, my love?” Miss Adler inquired, having noticed her change of focus.

“Do you own any pets, Miss Adler?”

“I do. Why do you ask?”

“Because I think we’re about to be interrupted.” She grinned and started counting backwards in her head until the animal in question showed themselves.

Her patience was rewarded by an unusual but not unexpected intruder when a cat hopped up on the edge of the bathtub.

“Should’ve guessed you were a cat!” Rosalie said with a giggle as she offered wet fingers to the very curious cat who sat on the edge of the tub and watched them.

“You’re just like my Maddie!”

“You own a cat?” Miss Adler asked curiously. 

“Long-hair Calico named Madeline. She wasn’t a real big people-cat at first, but she’s always been very fond of me.” Rosalie smiled as the cat nudged against her hand. “Oh, don’t do that, you silly thing. You’ll fall in the water if you try that!” 

“It wouldn’t be the first time Ned’s taken a swim because curiosity got the better of her.” Miss Adler said with a chuckle.

“What’s her name?”

“Nedjem.”

“For the very first cat known to _have_ a name?” Rosalie smirked. “Of course you would.”

As if knowing she was being talked about, Nedjem made a disgruntled cat-noise and nipped at Rosalie’s fingers. 

“Ouch!” She flicked water at the cat for the trouble. “That’s not a nice thing to do, cat! You don’t bite someone out of spite!”

“She’s telling us it’s time to get out.” Miss Adler gave her a nudge. “She is right. You should rest.”

“I don’t want to sleep alone.” She wasn’t sure why she said that, it seemed like a rather silly thing to say.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, my dear.” Miss Adler said as she helped Rosalie out of the tub and drained the water before steering her towards the stand-alone shower to rinse down before retiring to the bedroom.

Someone had been in, the sheets on the bed were clean. Rosalie hadn’t heard a door open, but it made sense how Nedjem might have gotten into the bedroom in the first place.

“I don’t suppose you’re interested in wearing anything to bed?” Miss Adler asked as she sat down carefully on the freshly-made bed. 

“No, thank you, Miss Adler. If it’s any difference to you, I’d rather not.”

“That is perfectly acceptable, expected even.” That answer got a smile out of her Alpha, who had brought another towel to dry Rosalie’s hair. “Now, sit still for me, my love.” 

“Okay.” Rosalie turned her back to her Alpha and let Miss Adler towel-dry and braid her hair for bedtime.

John sometimes did this for her, just as a bonding/trust exercise of sorts and to get her used to positive, affirmative touch. All of the Alphas she knew had been working so hard to recondition her past the trauma of Orlando Garza’s abuses. A few months of physical, mental, and sexual abuse was a drop in the bucket compared to some peoples’ experiences, but Rosalie still had trauma to work through. And she had people willing to help her. That was so important, especially for someone like Rosalie. Rosalie slept fitfully that night, but that was only to be expected for Heat. And she had experienced many sleepless nights in the past week. But she wasn’t alone, and Miss Adler was there for her when she woke herself up.

Two days later, Rosalie’s Heat had passed. She was sore, tired, and a little cranky, but that was only to be expected. What she hadn’t expected was to pass her first legitimate Heat with someone who wanted more than just a week of her time. She could have just as easily spent her Heat on Baker Street, looked after by John and Mary, cared for but lonely. Instead, she had met Irene Adler and discovered her Alpha. And it wasn’t just that Irene Adler was her Alpha, it was that she didn’t mind that Rosalie was her Omega. Now that Rosalie had met and mated with her Alpha, she just had to take care of one more piece of unpleasant business. Well, technically it was two more pieces of unpleasant business, but there was only one that she really dreaded. Returning to Phoenix to confront the Graysons over their very illegal tampering was not something she wanted to do, but it was absolutely necessary. On this end of things, she could certainly do something more immediate. So, she and Miss Adler visited the register office in Hendon.

When they walked into the proper office-suite, they were met by a harried, hostile Null.

“What is your business?” He asked in a clipped tone, looking from Rosalie to Miss Adler.

“We would like to speak to someone about filing a Contingency Decree.” Miss Adler said in a calm tone of voice. 

“What manner of CD?”

“Marriage Bond Contingency Decree.” Miss Adler was looking at the Null clerk the way she had looked at Mrs Barr. “And the sooner you let us get about our business, the less likely it is I will make your life very unpleasant.”

“Ma’am, threatening me will not make this happen any faster.”

“Do you know what a Marriage Bond Contingency Decree is for?” Rosalie spoke up then, “Why someone would come seeking to file for one?”

“Of course I know what it’s for! It’s my job to know!” The clerk snapped, “I don’t need to lower myself to explain anything to an Omega.” Rosalie bristled at the clerk’s attitude. She was used to people treating her like she was less than, but she was also beginning to understand that she didn’t have to put up with people treating her that way. 

“I’m not asking you to explain anything to me, and my Dynamic Classification should make no difference in the service I receive from your office.” She said with a calm she didn’t feel. “The MBCD is being filed on my behalf, and it is valid for a Decree to be filed in the event a couple is Bonded and it is imperative that they bypass the standard waiting period of six months that most couples must go through.”

“Are you in such a situation?”

“Would it make a difference if I asked to file a Forced Marriage Protection Order?” Rosalie spat.

“A … um, I’m sorry, but did you just say you wanted to file a Forced Marriage Protection Order?” Well, that had gotten the clerk’s attention, and some of his haughty demeanour diminished.

“And before you even think about asking, the woman behind me is my Alpha,” Rosalie added, knowing exactly where the clerk’s train of thought would go next. “She is not the one I would be filing against.” 

“Are you looking to file an FMPO?”

“No. At least not this time.” She shook her head. “Right now, I need to file a Marriage Bond Contingency Decree.” 

“Of course, miss.” 

“I would like to do that today, and the sooner I do the better.” 

“Let me see if I can find someone to help you, then.” The clerk looked over at the row of desks, each manned by a filing clerk, “Would you like me to put in for an FMPO? I can get that underway if it’s that important.”

“Yes, please.” Miss Adler spoke up, “We will take care of the specifics.” 

“Of course, ma’am.” The clerk nodded. A brief conversation was had over the headset the clerk was wearing and he looked at Rosalie and Miss Adler, “Well, if you two will follow me, Mariah will be helping you with your filing needs today.” 

“Thank you.” Miss Adler took Rosalie’s hand as they followed the clerk to one of the desks. The woman seated behind the desk was a Beta, and she was far more helpful than the first clerk had been. She was friendly, polite, and actually congratulated Rosalie on her new status. 

“Now, Andrew mentioned that you were looking to file twice today?”

“Yes, we need to file a Marriage Bond Contingency Decree for the two of us, and my Omega would like to file a Forced Marriage Protection Order against a third party.” Miss Adler said in a deceptively polite tone of voice. 

“I’m sorry?” The poor Beta looked so startled, Rosalie almost felt sorry for her.

“An MBCD needs to be joint-filed and appropriate actions undertaken promptly.” Her Alpha continued. “And then an FMPO needs to be filed against a heavily-biased third party with their own interests.”

“This third party is not based in the UK?”

“No, ma’am.” Rosalie shook her head, “And I would like to file an EPO if that’s any difference to you.” 

“Of course! Let me just get the papers sorted for the Marriage Bond Contingency Decree first!” The poor woman looked so bewildered by the similar but conflicting requests. Rosalie suspected she had never been asked to help someone file both orders at the same time. But to her credit, she was very helpful and efficient. While Rosalie and Miss Adler filled out the paperwork for the Marriage Bond Contingency Decree, the clerk collected all of the paperwork necessary for Rosalie to file her Emergency Protection Order against the Graysons. 

An hour later, Rosalie and Miss Adler left Hendon Town Hall and travelled to Westminster City Hall so that Rosalie could file notice with the Register Office there. Really all she was doing was double-checking to make sure the Contingency Decree she had joint-filed in Barnet would be recognized by the Westminster offices. Her name was on every single signature and initial line on the primary Decree, so there could be no question at all that she was the second party involved. She had a copy of the Decree in hand just on the outside chance they ran into another clerk with a complex. There was too much at stake for her to let someone else get away with stonewalling.

But that precaution was unnecessary. When they reached Westminster City Hall, Rosalie knew they had some company. Helpful company. 

“Normally, I would accuse him of being incapable of minding his own damn business.” She mused as she caught sight of the familiar black car. Miss Adler just smiled and took her hand as the driver emerged to open the back kerbside door. Mycroft’s assistant emerged first, glued firmly to her Blackberry as always, followed shortly by her employer. 

“Irene.” He gave Rosalie’s Alpha a polite, friendly smile. “Rosalie.”

“I can only imagine what you’re doing here, Myc.” Rosalie gave her brother a hug. “You have an agency and a country to run. Better things to do than keep your bratty little sister out of trouble.” 

“Not quite.” He just smiled, “You look … happy, Rosalie.”

“I am happy.” She looked over her shoulder at the building behind them. “I’m just trying to secure my own future and ensure the Grayson’s can’t fuck it up.”

“They won’t. Not once we’re done with them.” Her brother’s voice turned cold and Rosalie raised an eyebrow.

“What did you do, Mycroft?”

“I did not act on this alone.”

“I didn’t think you had, but that’s not the question I asked you.” She gave him a suspicious look. 

“Let’s finish up the business we came here for, and then we’ll talk.” Miss Adler said firmly. 

Rosalie had the feeling this was going to be a rather short visit, but that was okay. Honestly, she was more interested in whatever her brother had learned from his research into the alteration of her emancipation appeal. Following Miss Adler and Mycroft into the building, Rosalie kept to herself. She was willing to let the Alphas take over for this bit. Mycroft was in full Alpha-mode for this visit and it was almost embarrassingly entertaining to watch people react. There were two reactions: panic or pandering, or some of both.

When they finally reached the proper office and found the proper person to speak to, Rosalie stepped forward. 

“I can handle this.” She said quietly to the Alphas. “Believe me, you’ll know if I need help.”

“No one ever said you were incapable.” Mycroft chuckled and gave her a nudge. Turning to face the Alpha behind the desk, she took a deep breath. 

“Can I help you, young lady?” The woman inquired in a tone of voice that made it very clear she thought there were better things for her to be doing with her time. 

“Yes, ma’am. My name is Rosalie Grayson and I joint-filed a Marriage Bond Contingency Decree earlier this morning up in Hendon.”

“Oh, yes. We were notified of the filings on your behalf. Not very proper.” 

“I have copies of both orders I filed for.” She set the file down on the desk, “You would do well to read them, Mrs Norrins.” 

“I don’t have to do anything, young lady, unless you give me a damn good reason to.”

“I joint-filed the Marriage Bond Contingency Decree with Irene Adler, who is my Alpha,” Rosalie said grimly. “She is not a party to the Graysons and I was not forced to do anything against my will in her care.”

“Who are the Graysons? And why should I bother?”

“An Emergency Protection Order was filed with the Barnet Register Office on my behalf, by myself, against the Nicholas Graysons of Phoenix, Arizona.” Rosalie felt her hackles rise.

“You filed a Forced Marriage Protection Order?” That got the woman’s attention.

“An Emergency Protection Order, to prevent the Graysons from being immediately involved.” She squared her shoulders, “My liberty is in jeopardy, I would be indebted to you for your consideration and cooperation, Mrs Norrins.”

“Well, let me see if everything is in proper order.” The clerk flipped the file open and skimmed it. 

“My DC does not give you the right to treat me like my problems don’t matter, Mrs Norrins,” Rosalie growled. “I do not have to put up with your passive browbeating and I do not appreciate being talked down to.” 

“I have done no such thing, young lady.”

“You don’t realize you’re doing it, that’s the problem. None of you do!” She looked at the Alphas, they didn’t seem too keen on getting in her way. “Alphas like you are so busy with yourselves you can’t bother to help someone else you deem below you when they need your help!” 

“Do not speak to me in that tone of voice, young lady, or I will be happy to have you removed from the premises.” That got her a minatory look. Rosalie wasn’t afraid of the selfish Alpha.

“Do not speak to my sister so disrespectfully, Mrs Norrins.” Mycroft spoke up, “She is in legitimate danger. Her change of status as Miss Adler’s Omega does nothing to change the fact that someone else tried to force her hand in marriage. As you are aware, I’m sure, it is unlawful to force another to marry against their will.”

“Then why is she getting married?”

“Because I _want_ to get married, not because anyone told me I had to!” Rosalie snapped. “If you won’t help me, I’ll find someone else who will!”

“Rosalie, calm down, love.” Miss Adler said calmly, squeezing Rosalie’s hand tightly. “It’s going to be alright.” Rosalie felt the itch across her skin, but Miss Adler was only warning her. 

“I’m sorry, Miss Adler.” But really, she hadn’t acted out too badly. She was within her rights to speak out when someone was belittling her. Standing up for herself was no crime. Which was a good thing, because Rosalie seemed to have a rather nasty habit of speaking her mind when someone tried to discount her opinion and judge her based on her Dynamic Classification alone.

After some unsubtle strong-arm tactics courtesy of Mycroft, the clerk finally came to her senses. Not willingly, but with two keen Alphas and a belligerent Omega, she was outnumbered. So, another hour was lost to waiting on the pleasures of government employees with a complex. Never mind a chip big enough to sink the Titanic. But when they left the Register Office, Rosalie was no longer a Grayson. Or even a Holmes, for that matter. Ensuring their joint-filed Contingency Decree was good at any Register Office in London, Rosalie and Miss Adler saw a Registrar and exchanged brief vows. Mycroft and James Bond had stood in as their witnesses, while John, Sherlock, and Mary had come as guests. Rosalie would file for change-of-name once she had settled things in Phoenix. Which was her next stop. And she wasn’t going back alone. Miss Adler wasn’t letting her out of sight, and Mycroft simply said that this was now a family affair. She had no problem giving up the Grayson name, and she had the perfect way to give her ex-family the middle finger. If they didn’t want her around, they would get their wish. It just wouldn’t be the way they wanted. And considering how she had been treated by them, she wasn’t interested in playing nicely.

From the Register Office, they travelled to London City Airport, where Mycroft’s jet was waiting. Arrangements had been made to travel back to Phoenix once Rosalie’s Heat had passed, for the sole purpose of challenging the amendment the Graysons had snuck into her application paperwork. There were two problems: 1) Rosalie had turned 18 and reached the age of majority by the time the amendment had been discovered, which made it null since it specified that she had to marry before her birthday; and 2) She had married regardless of the amendment and not because anyone had told her to, but because she wanted to get married. After all, she had discovered that she had an Alpha, and not just that but her Alpha was more interested in her happiness and security than following any last-minute bullshit amendments to her emancipation appeal.

Rosalie had a pretty good idea why Judge Lachey hadn’t bothered to enforce that amendment. After all, forced marriage was illegal both in the United States and the United Kingdom. Rosalie had filed the appropriate protection orders for herself and she had copies of those orders as a precaution. She also had copies of her unaltered application and the version that had been tampered with. Judge Lachey had copied off and saved the original as soon as it came across her desk, and she had happily sent a copy to Mycroft when he called to explain their dilemma.

Now, she was flying back to the United States to settle this sham with the Graysons once and for all. And she was not playing the game by their rules. Accompanied by her biological family, and her Pack, Rosalie returned to the city that had been home for five years. She had every intention of finishing whatever business she had with the Graysons and ensure that they would never bother her again, but she also wanted to get in touch with the Linkers and let them know that she was doing alright. Leaving Phoenix might have been difficult, but it had been a good move in the end.

* * *

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.guinnessworldrecords.com/world-records/first-named-cat/
> 
> https://www.names.org/n/nedjem/about


	17. Crossroads Of My Tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosalie returns to Phoenix to close the book on the life she left behind two months ago. But she's not alone, her family and her Pack have decided to come along. Not because they don't think she can manage, but because they're family. And this is, after all, a family affair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rosalie and Co. get some casework in because The Work doesn't care for vacations or family dramatics. Never mind they're in a completely different city and London's a few thousand miles away. If there's been a crime committed, Sherlock Holmes will solve the case. If it's interesting enough.

* * *

* * *

After making landfall in Phoenix on December 29th, Rosalie and her small entourage of friends and family holed up in a hotel. Rosalie got in touch with both Richard Malcolm and Thomas Grayson’s attorneys and demanded a meeting with all of them on New Year’s Eve at 7:30 in the morning.

_“Oh, and Mr Haller?” _She asked in a deceptively sweet tone of voice.

_“Yes, Miss Grayson?” _Lincoln Haller sounded irritated that he couldn’t get Rosalie off the phone to get on with other, far more important business.

_“I just had one more request to make of you.”_

_“What is it, Miss Grayson?” _He sounded very annoyed._ “I am a very busy man and I have no time to bother with a flagrant misuse of my time and resources.”_

_“Oh, don’t worry, Mr Haller,” _Rosalie promised, _“I know how important it is to consider others when I make plans for something. I only need a few hours of your time.”_

_“What do you need, Miss Grayson?”_

_“Make sure you bring Thomas Grayson with you on New Year’s Eve.” _All traces of friendliness had disappeared from her voice. _“I have a few developments I would like to share with you and Judge Malcolm. I’ve also invited Judge Lachey to join us since she’s been involved in my case.”_

_“Why are you involving Clary Lachey? She has no business in this.”_

_“She dismissed my case and granted me emancipation.” _She said calmly. _“Oh, and can you also see about bringing Braxton Grayson, as well?”_

_“Why?”_

_“Because I’m asking nicely.” _Rosalie had her thumb over the end-call button._ “Bring the Graysons, or you are not going to like me. I have my own representation this time, beyond representing myself, and you may not like the way we play your game.”_

_“You can’t … ”_

_“I can, Mr Haller. And I absolutely will. I can have you and your partners debarred faster than you can blink.” _She snarled, _“And I have all the evidence I need that your clients engaged in highly illegal activities.”_

_“Such as what?”_

_“Oh, no, I’m under no obligation to explain myself to you.” _Rosalie narrowed her eyes,_ “I’ll see you on New Year’s Eve. If you don’t show, I will have warrants issued for your arrest. And yes, I can do that.” _

Before Haller could say another word, she hung up on him. Tossing her phone aside, she fell back on the massive king-size bed in the room she was sharing with Miss Adler while they were in Phoenix.

“Speak your mind, my Omega?” Miss Adler chuckled, having observed the whole conversation in silence. Rosalie snorted.

“I never said I was well-behaved, Miss Adler.” She said blandly. “You’re the one who thought it was a good idea to marry me.”

“It is not a decision I regret now or anticipate regretting in the future, my love.” Her Alpha said softly. Rosalie blushed, still getting used to the idea that someone was willing to offer her “til death do us part”, with or without married life. She had just been happy to know she had an Alpha at all. And never mind an Alpha, she had just been happy to be on amicable terms with her brothers.

Now, she had a chance to close a painful chapter of her life and move on with people who loved her. After thirteen years of wondering, she had a family who wanted her to be part of their lives. She had a Pack. For someone who had been shunned for being different, it was kind of weird to suddenly be accepted. At least on one front. She could stand before Judge Malcolm and the Graysons and prove to them that she was capable of making her own way without their interference or say-so. And interfere they had. Or, tried to interfere. They hadn’t done quite a clean job of things. Someone had left a very obvious trail that her observant eldest brother had caught onto. If he hadn’t, she might be in a great deal of legal trouble. At least until someone was able to prove beyond a doubt that she was being forced to marry. Which she was happy to do. But that could wait. And not just because she had given those responsible for her misery an ultimatum.

Business would have to wait because The Work came knocking, as she discovered when a loud, brisk knock on the door disturbed the quiet.

“That’s not Housekeeping.” Miss Adler mused. 

“No, that’s my brother,” Rosalie muttered, going to answer the door before Sherlock tried breaking it down. “I can only imagine what he wants.” Pulling the door open, she found her brother and his partners standing outside, ready to go. She knew what that meant. 

“You do realize that we’re five thousand miles from London right now?” She asked despite knowing damn well that wouldn’t stop her brother from dropping in on a crime scene.

“Which is why you’re coming with us. Get your coat.”

“Almost no one knows I’m in town right now.” She rolled her eyes as she fetched her coat and side-arm, making sure she also had her wallet and phone. 

“Going somewhere?” Miss Adler inquired.

“Apparently. I can only imagine what it is. ” She shot a look at the open door, where she could see Sherlock tapping away on his phone while John and Mary spoke in soft voices. “What on earth came across his radar in Phoenix that was just interesting enough? And how? He has no contacts here.”

“With Sherlock Holmes? He has his ways. Clever ways. Subtle ways.” Miss Adler just smiled and came over as she fussed with her coat. “And before you ask, I will never, ever forbid you from assisting your brother on a case. It’s work you’re very good at and work you’re familiar with.”

“Thank you, Miss Adler.” She whispered, “I’ll be careful.”

“Mr Holmes, I’m sending my Omega with you.” Miss Adler followed her to the door to see them off. “Don’t get her into trouble.” 

“Miss Adler, you would be one of many people with a word of reprimand if anything happened to Rosalie. I can’t imagine anyone of them would be too happy with me if she got into trouble because of my actions.” Sherlock said calmly, adjusting the cuffs of his coat. Rosalie snickered. None too happy was putting it mildly. As soon as they realized that she was actually back in Phoenix, it probably wouldn’t take very long for the word to spread. 

“She is very popular with the local force,” John added, “and I believe Mark Linker is currently employed by the Maricopa County Sherriff’s Department.”

“Tread carefully. This is not London.” Miss Adler just smiled at the sight of Rosalie and her partners. “But the local force is getting help from the Baker Street Detective Agency, the best in the business. You’ll have the case solved neatly in no time.” 

“We’ll do our best to help them, but make no promises.”

“Go on. A dead body won’t walk away from anyone, but time is not always in our favour.” Miss Adler saw them off, keeping watch until they were out of sight. 

As they retrieved their rented car from the hotel’s valet parking, Rosalie wondered if she should do the driving. After all, she knew nearly every street in Phoenix blindfolded, but the other three certainly wouldn’t be familiar with the city’s layout. At least, not enough to get to their destination without getting lost.

“So, where are we going?” She asked as their car was pulled up to the front doors of the hotel and the valet hopped out.

“The Warehouse District.”

“Ooh. Central City?” Rosalie hissed through her teeth. “Rough part of town. I don’t suppose you have an address?”

“Arizona Scrap Iron & Metal?”

“Not an address, but I definitely know where that is.” She sniffed. When the valet driver surrendered the keys, John tipped him. Not much, just a few bucks for his bit. Rosalie reached over and snatched the keys from her brother. 

“Oi!” She ignored his attempt to take the keys back.

“You have no idea where we’re going, I do,” Rosalie said bluntly as she went around and got in on the driver’s side. “Get in the car, shut up, buckle up. I’m driving.” 

“How hard can it possibly be to get there?” He muttered as he took shotgun. “It’s not like I don’t know how to drive.” 

“Sweetie, we’re in Scottsdale, the scene is down in Central City.” 

“So what?”

“We’re in north Scottsdale. That’s a forty-five-minute drive, minimum.”

“Why does that matter?”

“It’s like driving from Baker Street to Heathrow for timing.” She looked at her brother as they waited at a light.

“I can still drive, you know. Forty-five minutes is nothing.”

“I lived here for ten years,” Rosalie said calmly. “I know these streets, how to get around the city.”

“You’re never going to win, Sherlock, you might as well just let her have this one.” John piped up from the back seat. “You know she’s right.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” He muttered. John and Mary shared a sly smile while Sherlock pouted. Rosalie just smirked. It wasn’t very often Sherlock was bested by someone, and he had never liked being outsmarted. Even by his siblings. Or especially by his siblings. It was bad enough when the likes of Irene Adler and Jim Moriarty bested him, it was just downright humiliating when he was outsmarted by Rosalie, or Mycroft, or Q.

Forty-five minutes later, she turned onto South 6th Drive and pulled up short of a police-line. Per standard procedure, the primary line was a few yards distant of the main line, manned by a couple of MCSO deputies whose only real job was to keep civilians and bystanders out of the area.

“I can’t promise anything for the intelligence of my deputies, but I’m pretty sure you don’t have to worry about anyone like Anderson or Donovan.” She mused as they were waved down by the deputies on line-duty. She hadn’t exactly slowed down as she approached the line. 

“What makes you think they’ll let us through?” Sherlock whispered. 

“Because nearly every deputy on the force knows me by name.” She fetched both of her badges, “I’ve been coming along to crime-scenes since I was twelve and solving crimes since I was eight.”

“Well, that explains everything.” John chuckled as she slowed to a stop and rolled her window down.

“Afternoon, Lucas!” She greeted the deputy by name, having recognized him right away. “How’s Ricky?”

“Holy shit! Rosie!” Lucas McCain shoved his sunglasses up onto his forehead, almost knocking his hat off his head. “What the hell are you doing here?!”

“Heard you boys might need some help. Why else would I be here?” She raised an eyebrow at McCain, “But forget about me. Aren’t you supposed to be on paternity leave right now?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Bullshit. I’ll talk to Eisner.” Rosalie rolled her eyes as she handed over both of her badges. “As soon as you’re cleared up here, Lucas, go home. Ricky and Löwin need you more than we do.”

“I can wait another six hours, it’s not the end of the world.” McCain just shook his head, studying the badges she and given him. “Looks like you kept your badge, huh?”

“Didn’t think I’d ever need it again, but I wasn’t going to throw it away, and no one ever asked for it back.” She looked out the windshield towards the distant line and the clusters of milling personnel she could see beyond.

“So, what’s on?”

“Somebody called in a body-dump, but we didn’t find anything.”

“So you called in K9 to do a body-search?”

“We have two teams in there, not sure if they’ve found anything.” McCain gave Rosalie her badges back. “We’re combing the whole place, but we’re not sure if it’s a gag call or not.” 

“That’s a waste of police resources.” Sherlock frowned, “Which is a criminal offence.” 

“Mhm.” Rosalie nodded. “That’ll get you six months back in London.”

“If you want in to take a look, you know what’s what.” McCain leaned against the side of the car. “We could sure use a few extra hands.”

“I have some extra hands, we’d be happy to see if we can help out.” Rosalie looked at her passengers and smiled. This is sort of what they did for a living. 

“Help yourselves. The staging’s up there.” McCain pointed out a cluster of cars five yards ahead. “Kenzie’s on lead.”

“Haven’t they promoted her yet?” Rosalie frowned. Mackenzie Sarah had been a Deputy for most of Rosalie’s life in Phoenix, having been promoted through two ranks during her middle-school and high-school years. Last she had been aware, Mackenzie had been up for one more promotion to Lieutenant.

“You’ll have to ask her.” McCain shrugged, “I think she’d be thrilled to play some catch-up.”

“Not very helpful, Lucas.” She gave him a dirty look. He just smiled at her and held the line for them to drive under.

“Christ, he’s always been like that.” She muttered. Her passengers wisely said nothing, but she did catch her brother smiling like he knew something. 

Rosalie parked behind a few squad-cars and locked up after everyone was out. Pocketing the keys, she headed for the line separating the primary scene from the road. They had the whole of the scrap-yard roped off and the place was swarming with personnel. 

“Same job, different city.” John murmured as Rosalie showed her MCSO badge at the line. 

“Don’t worry about those three,” she indicated her partners, “they’re with me and they’ll mind their manners.” 

“But … ”

“That’s Sherlock Holmes, Mattie.” Rosalie gave the Deputies a stern look. “Trust me, if anyone can figure out this mess, it’s gonna be him.”

“Sherlock Holmes!” Mattie Mason and her partner looked at each other, “How do you know Sherlock Holmes?”

“He’s my brother!” She just smiled at the gobsmacked pair and ducked the line. The Baker Street threesome was right behind her.

“That wasn’t very nice, Rosie.” John whispered, “Picking on the line-minders like that?”

“They asked. Besides, it’s not like I lied to them, is it?” She looked over her shoulder at him. “But we can worry about me picking on the deputies later, we have real work to do.” Ducking a secondary line, she looked for Mackenzie Sarah. 

“Grayson!” Someone shouted. “Hey, Grayson!”

“Oh, there she is.” Rosalie turned to face the caller. “Hey, Kenzie!”

“I thought Lucas was joking!” Mackenzie Sarah grabbed her and gave her a tight hug, “What the hell are you even doing in Phoenix?! I thought you’d abandoned us for London!”

“Back in town on business.” Rosalie smiled. “But never mind me! Lucas said you’d been promoted again?”

“Tattle-tale.” Sarah rolled her eyes.

“Well, were you?”

“Yes.”

“To ... what, exactly?” She folded her arms across her chest. “Lucas wouldn’t say.”

“Someone decided it was time to give me more work to do,” Sarah smirked. “Finally got what I’ve been after since you were twelve.”

“Really?!”

“Really.”

“About damn time!” Rosalie shook her head. “But word came our way that you folks might need some help, so here we are.” 

“Yeah, mind introducing your friends?” Sarah looked over her shoulder at Rosalie’s partners. “Is that Sherlock Holmes?”

“Your eyes do not deceive you, ma’am.” 

“How the hell do you know Sherlock Holmes?”

“Let me introduce you to my partners, first, then I’ll explain myself.” Rosalie turned to her partners. 

“Mackenzie Sarah, may I introduce the detectives of The Baker Street Detective Agency. Sherlock Holmes and his partners, John Watson and Mary Morstan.”

“Yeah, I know who you are.” Sarah just smiled as she shook hands with Sherlock. “I’d love to know what brings you to Phoenix, Arizona, Mr Holmes.” 

“A bit of family business, Lieutenant Sarah.”

“I can only imagine. Well, I’m not about to say no to the likes of Sherlock Holmes!” Sarah just shook her head, “Help yourself, Mr Holmes!”

“I’ll make sure he behaves himself, Kenzie,” Rosalie promised as Sherlock took off for the rows of scrap-metal beyond, completely ignoring everyone and everything else. “Sorry about just sort of popping up without warning.”

“It’s what you do, kid. I’m more surprised to see you two months after you set off for a fresh start in London than I am that you showed up at my scene out of the blue.” Sarah smirked. “But usually, it’s just you showing up at a scene.”

“Just me?”

“You showed up with some impressive company, kiddo.” Sarah looked at Sherlock’s retreating form.

“I’ll go after him, Rosie.” John mused, kissing her on the cheek as he passed her. “You can catch up with Lieutenant Sarah.”

“Uh, no you don’t!” Rosalie wrinkled her nose, “You are not taking credit for my job!”

“We’ll catch up later, Rosalie, you came here on business!” Sarah laughed, putting an arm around her shoulder. “Also, you owe me an explanation.”

“For what?”

“When you Presented, and who the hell your mate is.” Sarah whispered, “And when you got that new ink. Obvious but surprisingly subtle, that is.”

“I don’t think you’d believe me, Kenzie.” Rosalie sniffed, “It’s a fucking miracle I Presented at all. Considering I spent most of my teenage years thinking I was a Null and putting up with bullying because of that.”

“And now you have to put up with bullying because you’re an Omega.” Sarah’s expression was a familiar one. Rosalie had seen it on the faces of her Alphas many times.

“That’s one way to put it.” She kept one eye on her partners, “But I have a small army of Alphas fully ready to step in on my behalf if I need them. And at least one Beta and a fellow Omega.”

“Did one of those Alphas just walk onto my scene?”

“Yes, he did.”

“Watson?”

“Yep. He’s actually the first of my Alphas, but he’s not my Alpha.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.” Sarah narrowed her eyes, “But you do have an Alpha?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” Sarah nodded grimly. But whatever else Sarah might have to say on the matter would have to wait. A sudden outburst of barking interrupted the moment. Which was followed very quickly by shouting. 

“Uh oh.” Rosalie turned towards the commotion. “That can’t be good.”

“Come on.” Sarah grabbed hold of her by the wrist. “Stay behind me.” 

“Yep.” She quietly reached for her sidearm. 

“You have training for that thing?”

“You’re one of the people who gave me range-time before I left Phoenix.” Rosalie mused. It didn’t take long for instinct to take over and Rosalie broke out from behind Lieutenant Sarah and took off at a ground-covering jog.

“Grayson!” Sarah yelled as she disappeared around a corner. “God damn it, Grayson!” 

“I’m fine!” She yelled back.

Threading her way through a maze of scrap-metal stacked up in piles twenty feet high, she caught up with her brother. 

“What happened?” She asked in a whisper. 

“Disturbed a trespasser. Possibly the suspect.” Sherlock murmured, standing so close they touched. “He took off the minute the dog caught his scent and flushed him. He came this way.”

“Split up?”

“Go see if you can borrow one of the K9’s. I’d feel much better knowing you weren’t alone against this bastard.” 

“No problem.” She squeezed his hand and snuck around the corner to see about getting a partner of her own. Some back up for this.

It didn’t take long for her to encounter one of the on-scene K9 teams. In fact, she hardly had time to declare herself a friend before she was tackled and pinned by fifty-five pounds of angry German Shepherd. But Rosalie was no stranger to this particular exercise and simply twisted her body, reached around, and grabbed the dog by the scruff with one hand, and shoved her elbow into the dog’s jaw. It didn’t hurt the dog, but it did cause the dog to let go of her. Tightening her grip on the dog’s scruff, she twisted and rolled over so she was pinning the dog under her.

“Not me, you fuzzy moron!” She snapped, looking up at the handler, who had finally appeared around the corner. “Get a muzzle on your fucking dog, Deputy!”

“Oh my god!” The deputy gasped, “Rosalie? I thought they were kidding!”

“Dad?” She squinted. “Holy shit.”

“You okay, kiddo?” Mark Linker held out one hand to her, “Jesus, I thought you were the perp!”

“So did Moy, apparently!” Rosalie let her ex-foster help her up and reached down to get the lead of the K9 who had tackled her.

“You are an idiot, Moy!”

“Oh, she’s just doing her job!” Mark shook his head as she coiled the lead. “If I asked what you’re doing here, would I get a straight answer?”

“Not sure you’d believe me.” She looked around, “Which way did our perp go?”

“He came this way and disappeared.”

“I must have missed him by a split second!” Rosalie shook her head in wonder. “Well, should we go find this prick before he slips our nets?”

“After you!” Mark made an expansive gesture in the direction they assumed their suspect had gone after Moy and the other K9s had flushed him out of hiding. Moy had caught the suspect’s scent early, so it didn’t take long for her to find it again. Once Moy had the scent again, it was off at a run to catch, or catch up to, the suspect. Rosalie ended up running the entire length of the scrap-yard with Moy, and then another couple of miles on foot after their perp snuck out through a hole in the fence while they weren’t paying attention. One of the line-minders called in the runner and Rosalie took off without wasting a minute to ask permission.

It was a reminder that no matter what the circumstances, or the location, criminals were always going to be a panicky, stupid lot. Rosalie chased down their suspect through alley-ways, back-yards, and through traffic. She finally caught him on the Buckeye Road overpass.

“Police! Stop!” Desperate to escape, the moron turned and bolted across six lanes of traffic to try on the other side of Buckeye. But Rosalie and Moy were right on his heels and he wasn’t getting away so easy. The overpass had been shut down pretty fast, as had the highway for at least a mile in either direction, so there wasn’t much civilian traffic. A couple of drivers got the shock of a lifetime when Moy ran between cars and nearly caused a two-car pileup, and Rosalie jumped a Land Rover’s hood after sliding across the hood of a Mustang. There was shouting and gesturing, of course, but Rosalie ignored that for the moment.

However, things got kind of interesting when one of the cars didn’t quite stop in time. Rosalie had seen the BMW making the turn right as she and Moy chased the perp across six lanes of traffic, but hadn’t paid much attention to it. Suddenly, that same BMW pulled a manoeuvre right out of an action-flick and skidded sideways as it came to a stop. It stopped right in the way of Rosalie’s fleeing suspect, and the most bizarre thing happened. Faster than any of them could react, the suspect made full contact with the front bumper on the corner and went flying arse-over-teakettle to hit the pavement with an audible crash. Amazingly, the idiot sprang to his feet in an ill-advised attempt to make another run for it. He didn’t get very far, and the sound of the impact as he slammed into the opening driver’s side door was almost more painful than watching him flip off the bumper.

“Moy! Get ‘im! Take ‘im!” she yelled, letting Moy have her head. She watched Moy take the suspect right to ground in a glorious repeat of the tackle that had landed Rosalie and Moy as partners just a while ago.

“Moy! Fall back!” She ordered her partner to back off and knelt on the suspect, who flailed and cursed and swore up and down and backwards to sue them for who the hell knew what.

“You’re the one who thought it was a good idea to stay behind on the scene of your own fucking crime and then run from the cops when our K9s flushed you out, you moron!” She snarled, out of breath from the run, “You’re not going to sue anyone! But you will be going to jail!”

“You’re not a cop!”

“How do you know that?” Rosalie wasted no time getting handcuffs on him. “How do you know I’m not a trainee on my day off?”

“Because you’re not!” He bucked under her, “Get off of me, you Zero trash! You can’t get away with this!”

“Oh my god.” Rosalie felt something in her stomach lurch unpleasantly. “Orlando?!”

Scrambling to her feet, she kicked her perp over onto his back and grabbed Moy’s lead before she tried to rip his throat out.

“Orlando Garza, you fucking son of a bitch!” She stepped on Moy’s lead and pulled her weapon on her foster-brother. “You sick son of a bitch!”

“Strong words for a run-away and a Zero!”

“Shut your mouth, or so help me I will rip out your tongue!” She snarled, levelling her aim with the middle of Garza’s forehead.

A door slammed behind them, but Rosalie didn’t flinch. The man coming up on her six didn’t say a word, he simply gave a sharp, shrill whistle. A specific whistle. Next to Rosalie, Moy’s ears perked up. She recognized that call, they both did. When the whistle was repeated, Rosalie dropped the lead and lifted her foot. Moy retreated from her side without fuss, even though the man who had called her back just now was a complete stranger. All the while, Rosalie kept every bit of her focus on the man on his knees before her. 

“There’s just one problem, Orlando.” She narrowed her eyes as she used her free hand to brace her grip on the gun in her hand.

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“I’m not alone.” She slid her gaze sideways, “I have reinforcements. And a lot of people who would be very happy to make you very sorry. And possibly also make you disappear.”

“You don’t scare me, Zero.”

“Ugh, can you at least try harder?” She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “That’s getting really old.”

“Why? It’s true!” Orlando spat “You’re nothing! You’re worthless, a no-name Zero!”

“Okay, see, that’s where you are wrong.” She could just feel the fury pouring off of Seb and wondered what would happen if she let her ex-Special Forces Alpha have a go at Orlando. He obviously took issue with the way Orlando treated her, but this was not news to him. This should not come as a surprise to Seb, he knew everything about Orlando Garza there was to know, and more besides that.

“I’m not a Zero. I was Late, but not a Zero. I’m an Omega. Which, if your sense of smell was any good, you would know about me. So, really, calling me a Zero is just really annoying and insulting, but it’s a word now.” She thought on that and tilted her head, “Which, honestly, you should be damn lucky I never Presented while we were living together, and that you never had the guts to Knot me. Because if you had, you’d be a very dead man.”

“Having some trouble with your suspect, Adler?” Seb inquired in a carefully disinterested tone. Rosalie snickered. “Adler”, he called her, careful not to call her “Grayson”. Technically, she wasn’t a Grayson anymore, and after tomorrow, she certainly wouldn’t have any links to that family. Which was kind of a shame, considering how much time she had been a Grayson. 

“I’m fine, Seb.” She reassured Seb, not that he believed her. “No more trouble than he’s ever given me in the past.”

“Which has been quite a great deal of trouble, if I remember rightly.” Seb stood next to Rosalie and studied Orlando with a sharp, hostile gaze. “I expected someone a bit more … intimidating, Mr Garza. The way you had my Omega scared to death for her own safety, I thought you might be … more. But you’re nothing. You’re a witless, pathetic punk.”

“Don’t move, Orlando, he’ll break you in half without breaking a sweat,” Rosalie warned him when he made a move as if to get up. “And I’d let him. I imagine Sarah and the locals would be more than happy to, if we explained things to them.”

Wailing sirens and screeching tires and brakes was all the warning they got that reinforcements had shown up. She looked to see how many cars and raised an eyebrow. Three marked cars and the sedan she had driven down from Scottsdale. Unfortunately, and predictably, Orlando chose that moment of inattention to make a run for it. But, they weren’t that stupid and Moy was on him in a heartbeat. This time, Rosalie let Mark call Moy back from the attack. Honestly, she wouldn’t mind one bit if Moy ripped out Orlando’s throat, it was taking every ounce of self-control she had not to pull the trigger on him out of spite and self-preservation. Sarah put a call out for an ambulance, they were definitely going to need one.

“Rosalie!” John ran up on her six, “Rosie, are you alright? Are you out of your mind?”

“I’m fine, John.” She looked at her partner. “I promise.”

“So, who was stupid enough to run not just from the police, but from you?”

“That sorry-looking bastard is Orlando Garza.” She glanced at her bloodied ex-foster brother. “Who seems to think he’s getting away with this.”

“Like hell he is!”

“Oh, don’t worry, he won’t be getting away with it this time.” Rosalie holstered her sidearm and looked at Sarah. “When the locals are done with him, Kenz, I have a few interested parties who would love nothing more than a go with Orland Garza. Can we have him?”

“What kind of interested parties are we talking about?”

“MI-6, The Met, and a couple of highly concerned former soldiers.”

“Your Alphas?”

“Yep.”

“I’m not sure how that would be possible,” Sarah looked towards the barricade of cars as the ambulance arrived and Orland was loaded up, “but … um, I’m not about to tell a foreign intelligence agency no.”

“Probably best if you don’t.” Rosalie followed Sarah’s line of sight and chuckled when she caught sight of a familiar figure standing a little too close to the barricades. “See, it’s not just a foreign intelligence agency, it’s personal.”

“Uh, who is that?” Sarah asked, having spotted Mycroft hovering. “He looks like he means business.”

“That, Lieutenant Sarah, is Mycroft Holmes. Currently Director of Military Intelligence – Section Six.” Rosalie grinned, not a nice smile, “He also happens to be my eldest brother.”

“Brother?”

“I have three, actually. You’ve already met one of them, and it seems you’re about to meet another one.” She rocked on her heels as Mycroft exchanged a word with one of the Deputies, who was smart enough to let him pass, and came to join them.

“Don’t look so excited, Rosie.” John murmured.

“I can look as excited as I want.” Rosalie shot back as Mycroft reached them and took stock of what he could see: Rosalie, a bit roughed up from the foot-chase and subsequent take-down, flanked by her partners and Lieutenant Sarah; John standing off-sides with Seb as they talked in low voices; Mark Linker holding Moy on a very short leash, standing on some of the slack; and the paramedics loading a battered and bloodied Orlando Garza into the back of the ambulance, ignoring the ranting and fighting of their patient.

“The suspect?” He inquired in that carefully bored tone of voice.

“Yes, sir.” 

“What happened to him?” Mycroft raised an eyebrow. “It appears he was struck by a car.”

“He was struck by the front left fender and the driver’s side door.” Rosalie shot Orlando a dirty look he didn’t see.

“He was hit by a car.”

“Yes, sir.” Rosalie turned and pointed out the stationary BMW that had ultimately put an end to her foster-brother’s flight from the police. “That car, in fact.”

“I suppose thanks are owed to Colonel Moran for his timely if risky intervention.” Mycroft nodded sagely.

“I didn’t radio for that kind help, they just sort of … showed up and cut off the retreat.”

“What would he have done if he’d gotten across the bypass?”

“Climbed the fence and jumped into highway traffic.” She shrugged, “Might’ve gotten himself killed.”

“Pity. His injuries are far too extensive for a simple pedestrian-versus-vehicle incident.”

“That was Moy.”

“Moy?”

“The K9 who was on the take-down after Colonel Moran’s car provided a bit of a road-block.” Rosalie turned next to her foster-father and his K9. “She was with me during the foot-chase.”

“Ah! Yes, that’s right!” Mycroft brightened up, “Mark Linker is a K9 Deputy! Yes, I remember!”

“Want to go introduce yourself?”

“As soon as the ambulance is on its way.”

“Lieutenant Sarah would probably like a few minutes of your time, too.”

“Is she lead on this case?”

“Yes, she is. Recently promoted to lieutenant, she’s been after the rank since I was twelve.”

“Hmm. I suppose she would be my contact regarding access to question your foster-brother, wouldn’t she?”

“Yep.”

“I would be happy to make time to speak to Lieutenant Sarah.” Mycroft took her hand a squeezed, “That was a brave and reckless thing you did, running him to ground on your own.”

“In my defence, I didn’t know it was Orlando when I took off after him back at the scrap-yard. But I would have run as far as I needed to bring our suspect down.”

“It ended non-violently, on our end of the arrangement. I can’t say the same for Mr Garza.”

“He doesn’t deserve to get off easy, not after the bullshit he’s pulled.” Rosalie snorted. “Did they find the vic?”

“Yes, it was not pleasant.”

“Yeah, in a scrap-yard, I can only imagine.” She rubbed her bicep, “If I had to bet, Orlando wasn’t acting alone.”

“You don’t think so?”

“He was just the idiot fall-guy who was stupid and got caught.” 

“You seem very certain of this.”

“Knowing what I do about Orlando, absolutely. I always knew he was into bad business.” Rosalie watched the ambulance pull away after Sarah had a word with the driver.

“I never could prove he was involved in gang-related activity, but I knew what it looked like.”

“Were the Linkers truly unaware of this?” Mycroft frowned, “I can’t imagine someone with so many years of experience could be so ignorant.”

“I didn’t get myself involved, but I overheard quite a few shouting-matches between Mark and Orlando.” Rosalie rubbed her nose. “I didn’t exactly feel like giving him more reasons to come after me, he already had a grudge.” 

“Why?”

“Because I was first. I had been with the Linkers for a year by the time he came in, and they treated me like family. But they always have, this wasn’t anything new.” She looked over at Mark, who was watching as she chatted with Mycroft, suspicious but willing to keep his distance.

“You will not have to worry about Orlando Garza once this is over,” Mycroft promised. “I will speak to Lieutenant Sarah.” Rosalie nodded and let Mycroft go introduce himself to Mackenzie Sarah. She debated going with him, knowing that it wasn’t always wise to spring the likes of her eldest brother on someone unawares.

“Rosalie, was that Mycroft Holmes?” Mark asked as he came alongside her.

“You know how I said you probably wouldn’t believe me?”

“Clearly.”

“Yeah.” She cleared her throat. “And before you ask, the man who had Moy before she took down Orlando, that’s Sebastian Moran.”

“One of your soldiers?”

“Yep. John Watson’s the other one.”

“Huh. Kind of an unassuming bloke, isn’t he?” Mark studied Seb and John, “I take it that’s exactly the point?”

“Don’t make him angry, they may not find enough to positively identify your remains.” She grinned. 

“I seem to get the hands-off vibe from a lot of them.” Mark said blandly, “So, if that’s John Watson and Sebastian Moran, then I’ll be damned if Sherlock Holmes and Jim Moriarty aren’t somewhere around here.”

“Even though Moriarty’s technically supposed to be dead and isn’t?”

“Something like that.”

“You wouldn’t be wrong.” Rosalie looked for Jim, found him standing next to the back bumper of the BMW. Sherlock had joined John and Seb, Mary was with him. 

“Mind introducing me to a few of your friends?”

“They’re not just friends, Dad.” Rosalie made a face. 

“Yeah, I got that impression.” Mark rolled his eyes and gave her a push. She decided to introduce him to Jim first.

“Are you alright, Rosie?” Jim took her by the arms and looked her over very carefully. “My sister would have our heads if you got yourself hurt in that foot-chase and take-down.”

“I’m fine, Jim. You should see the other guy.” 

“Oh, I did, my love! He was a very sorry sight, wasn’t he?” 

“Not sure he quite got the point, or learned anything from it.”

“Hmph.” Jim made a face. “Too much to hope for, I suppose.”

“Rosalie?” The sound of Mark Linker’s voice reminded Rosalie that he was still there.

“Oh! Sorry!” She smiled a little guiltily. “Sorry.”

“You have the worst manners sometimes, Rosie.” Jim teased. 

“Sorry. Um.” She cleared her throat. “Right. Mark Linker, this is Jim Moriarty.” 

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr Moriarty,” Mark said as the two shook hands. 

“The pleasure is entirely mine, Deputy Linker.” Jim gave Mark his most charming smile. “I believe you’re the one we owe thanks to for keeping Rosalie on the straight and narrow.”

“I promised Jeremy ages ago, just didn’t think I’d ever be asked to make good on it.” That got a bit of a grimace. “But taking Rosalie Grayson on as a foster is not something I will ever regret.”

“She’s certainly one of a kind, isn’t she?”

“I’m standing right here, you know!” Rosalie muttered, blushing with embarrassment. 

“Oh, stop it. It’s all in good fun, Rosie!” Jim smiled and threw an arm around her shoulders, kissing her on the cheek. “Besides, it’s all true!”

“Take care with that one, Mr Moriarty, she’s more than capable of kicking your ass.” Mark chuckled at the banter, “And she’ll be happy to do it.”

“Oh, she’s a joy to watch in the field.” Jim just beamed, “Y’know, this one wiped out four of my less-intelligent thugs her first day in London?”

“Jim.” Rosalie gave him a dirty look. 

“I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that Rosalie had a scrape or two, but the other guys looked far worse?” Mark laughed at the admission. 

“Three concussions, one broken arm, a broken jaw, and a warning.”

“That’s my girl.” Mark nodded. 

“Jim, I hate you,” Rosalie said, folding her arms across her chest in a show of petulance.

“Mr Moriarty, you should know better than to pick on my sister.” There was Mycroft, back from chatting with Lieutenant Sarah. 

“That’s not going to stop him from doing it, Myc.” She sniffed. “Uh, I owe you an introduction, don’t I?” That got a smile from Mycroft, who seemed rather pleased with himself.

“That is not entirely necessary, but it would be appreciated.”

“Git.” She muttered, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, my brothers are insufferable know-it-alls, Mark.” 

“Brothers?!”

“You didn’t think Sherlock was the only sibling I had, did you?” Rosalie raised an eyebrow.

“He was the only one I knew about!”

“Nope, you missed two more brothers and a deceased sister.” 

“Well, I’ll be damned!” Mark held out one hand to Mycroft. “Mark Linker.”

“Mycroft Holmes. Thank you, Deputy, for looking after my sister.” Mycroft had no problem shaking hands with Mark. “I imagine she might have been a bit difficult at times.”

“No more or less than any other teenager I’ve ever encountered, Mr Holmes. Your sister was a joy, to be completely honest.”

“My brother and I are very grateful she had people like you to look after her, you and Jeremy Grayson,” Mycroft said grimly. “I was very sorry to hear of their passing, Jeremy Grayson was an exceptionally gifted man, and the Metropolitan Police Service was very sorry to lose him when the family moved to Phoenix.

“Jeremy worked for The Met?” That was news to Rosalie. 

“Yes, indeed. He left when you would have been ten years old.”

“Oh. So … I wasn’t imagining things.” She looked around, noticing that things were rather neatly shutting down on-scene. “I remember living in London until I was ten-years-old and we moved to Pheonix.” 

“You did live in London before you came to live here.”

“Wait a minute.” Something was starting to make sense, something that had sort of been bothering her. Was that why Greg remembered her as such a young child?

“Did you remember something?”

“I think so.” She looked at Mycroft. He would have kept track of her for as long as was prudent, while she was still in London and beyond as well. Maybe he hadn’t thought to reach out as she got older, but he had certainly kept an eye on her as she grew up in someone else’s family.

Going back to Headquarters, Rosalie filled out familiar reports. John, Sherlock, and Seb also filed reports for Lieutenant Sarah. All the while, she reflected on the new information she had on Jeremy Grayson. He had been in law-enforcement all of Rosalie’s life, for as long he had been part of it. First with The Met in London, and then with the Maricopa County Sheriff’s Office in Phoenix. But why had they moved away from London in the first place? She didn’t think Jeremy’s job would have taken them so far from home. Not even a transfer, he wouldn’t have done that without good reason. Hmm. Who could she ask about that? She might have to approach the Graysons about that, as much as she’d rather not. But with arrangements to meet with Thomas Grayson on the 31st, she might have a chance to bring it up. Well, she would worry about that later. She at least had an idea of why Greg seemed to remember her so well when she didn’t have very many memories of him at all. No fault of his, of course.

But Rosalie could make peace with her past, she was willing to put it behind her where it belonged. And if that meant she gave up the name she had basically grown up with, well, it was just one more step to taking control of her own future. She really wasn’t interested in having anything more to do with the Graysons after the 31st, but she was not afraid to bring them to court for damages if it came to that step. She’d rather not, but Rosalie had the feeling her brother would do whatever necessary to ensure her safety and happiness.

* * *

* * *


End file.
